Attitude
by Red8436
Summary: If there's one thing that Theodore Nott knows, it's that purebloods are superior to others in all aspects of life: he's been taught so his entire life. When Hermione Granger signs up for magical ballet classes alongside him in Third Year - an artform that's traditionally pureblood-only - he has no idea that she's about to smash his beliefs to pieces.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer - I do not own the Harry Potter world.

A/N A few quick things to note:

1) Though it may sound like it, this is not a crack!fic

2) You do not need to be a ballet expert (or really know much about ballet at all) to read this fic.

3) I have not given up on my other fics.

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Prologue

Hermione Granger read so many astonishing and mind-altering facts about her new school the first time she looked through _Hogwarts: A History,_ that the small paragraph mentioning that magical ballet was offered as an extracurricular struck her as only mildly interesting compared to ghosts, brewing actual potions and a thousand-year-old enchanted castle. In fact, in the wake of her engrossing first months at her school, she had entirely forgotten about the dance classes that were open to third-year students and above.

It was only when she picked up her favourite book again during the Easter holidays for a bit of casual reading, that she came across the passage once more and her interest was piqued. She considered going in search of the dance classroom when lessons resumed to see just what magical ballet involved, but then her revision for the upcoming exams kicked in and there was still the worrying business of the Philosopher's Stone occupying her mind.

When there were just a few days left until the all-important exams were set to take place, Hermione's desire to know more about Hogwarts' take on dancing was satisfied when the ballet students put on an end of year performance for the rest of the school. Some of the other Gryffindors grumbled about having to sit through the show – Harry and Ron, in particular – but (despite the fact that it took her away from her revision for a couple of hours) Hermione was looking forward to it. She had, like many girls her age, taken ballet lessons for a year or two when she was younger, and her mother had even taken her to London to see a performance of The Nutcracker by The Royal Ballet for a special treat one Christmas, so she wasn't completely ignorant of the discipline.

The Great Hall was transformed for the event: a grand stage was set up in the place of the teachers' table and rows of seating replaced the four long house tables. It was obviously an important occasion as Hermione saw lots of guests were invited to the event, and she was sure she even saw a couple of ghosts she'd never seen before float past to take their seats.

Once the lights in the Great Hall were dimmed, Hermione watched, enraptured, as the ballet began. The performance was in two halves. The first act was a narrative and the story was unfamiliar to Hermione, but this didn't prevent her from taking in every moment of the spectacle. In essence, the dancing was very similar to muggle ballet but the storytelling was enhanced by magical effects: the leading male dancer performed a solo amongst twinkling stars and flowers grew through the stage floor during his duet with the lead ballerina. Hermione was impressed with the strength of the male dancers as they lifted their female partners with ease, but when she saw one ballerina lifted above a dancer's head by nothing more than a single one of his fingers, she knew that enchantments had to have been used to make it possible. In the second half (a series of unconnected solos, duets and group dances that allowed different individuals to showcase their talents) this was particularly obvious during a duet between another pair of senior students whose feet didn't touch the floor once as they danced in mid-air across the stage. It was such an exquisite sight that Hermione couldn't be sure that she remembered to breathe during the entire piece.

The whole production was beautiful, really, and Hermione marvelled at how every single dancer was so graceful and poised. She must pass all the performers regularly in the school corridors but she didn't really recognise any of them. Did performing ballet automatically transform you into an unrecognisable creature of beauty?

Although they said they'd never be caught dancing themselves, Hermione could tell that Ron and Harry were impressed with what they'd seen.

The other girls in Hermione's dorm were much more open with their admiration as they pranced around the room and giggled over how handsome the male dancers were.

Parvati attempted an extravagant pirouette and then flopped dramatically onto her bed with a loud sigh as Lavender laughed.

"It's such a shame," Parvati declared ruefully. "I wouldn't even _consider_ taking ballet at Hogwarts."

Hermione looked up from her book in surprise. Given the way Parvati had been gushing about the performance for the last half an hour, Hermione was sure that the girl would be signing up in just over a year's time. "Why not?" she asked, unable to stem her curiosity.

Parvati and Lavender exchanged a quick look that had been common enough over the past months whenever Hermione had asked a question that they thought everyone knew the answer to. She knew that they didn't mean to upset her when they did it, but it set her teeth on edge.

"Apparently, the dance teachers are _horrible_," Parvati explained, "worse than Snape by _far_!"

"Most students who sign up quit before they've completed their first year of training." Lavender added.

"So you might get to wear the beautiful outfits at the end of the year but it doesn't seem worth having to endure hours of practice every week while teachers rip you to shreds just to get you there," Parvati said defeatedly.

"But they obviously get the best out of their students – they were all very impressive," Hermione said.

"I didn't say they're not _good_ teachers," Parvati pointed out. "I just don't think all the blood, sweat and tears are worth it."

Lavender nodded in agreement but Hermione turned back to her book without another word. She may have only been acquainted with the girls for a few months but she already knew that hard work was a foreign concept to them. But, more accurately, the same was true of all of the Gryffindors in her year. Did they not understand how important it was to perform well in their end-of-year examinations? Hermione, for one, was not going to risk having to repeat the year, and her revision schedule made sure that she was going to be fully prepared to perform at her best.

And, a couple of weeks later, she was rewarded for her efforts by coming top of the year – even managing to score over one hundred percent in more than one subject. As wonderful as her results were, their importance paled in comparison to the successful efforts of herself, Ron and, particularly, Harry in stopping Voldemort from getting his hands on the Philosopher's Stone.

Her second year at Hogwarts turned out to be just as eventful as her first and even more dangerous. When she was restored from petrification thanks to the mandrake draft, it dawned on her that she'd escaped instant death only because of a little mirror. It was a rather alarming realisation amid the relief in being returned to consciousness.

It was wonderful to see her friends again and hear how they'd managed to defeat the basilisk and the Heir of Slytherin, but she was mildly disappointed when Dumbledore announced the cancellation of the school exams for that year. However, after time to reflect, she concluded that it was probably for the best – she would've had to come up with a relentless revision regime to make sure she would've been able to study everything that she'd missed whilst petrified.

Fortunately, the end of year dance performance was not cancelled. Once again, Hermione was mesmerised by the grace and skill on stage. This time, she knew her fellow students better and she recognised a few of them, but was struck by how the ballet posture and moves completely transformed them from the normal pupils she saw around school, and she wondered… could that be her?

She squashed the thought instantly as nothing more than a silly notion, but she couldn't stop her imagination putting her on that stage, showcasing a grace she'd never been capable of before…

When Dumbledore led the plaudits at the end, praising the ballet dancers for their incredible performances and the teachers for their work in preparing the students, Hermione watched the two dance instructors closely. There was one man and one woman, and Hermione was quite sure she hadn't seen them around the castle before, which was surprising considering she'd been there for nearly two years. Both instructors held themselves with such immaculate poise that Hermione was certain they must have been ballet dancers themselves when they were younger. Although streaks of silver ran through their hair, they were both still in incredible shape and strikingly handsome. There were wide but gracious smiles on their faces as Dumbledore thanked them for the hard work they had done in tutoring the students, and the pupils applauded their instructors enthusiastically, which struck Hermione as intriguing considering their harsh reputation.

"And don't forget, Second Years: your taster session of ballet will take place here, in the Great Hall, tomorrow afternoon," Professor Dumbledore announced, much to Hermione's astonishment.

"Why didn't I know about this?" she whispered to Harry and Ron as a thrill raced through her.

Harry looked a little apologetic. "It's been on the noticeboard for weeks. To be honest, we were hoping they'd cancel it," he admitted as Ron nodded dejectedly.

Frustrated that she'd missed the announcement whilst petrified, Hermione quickly turned her attention back to Dumbledore. "I'm sure signor and signora Vittozzi are eager to discover what talents can be unearthed amongst you all," he declared, eyes twinkling as he swept his gaze along the row of second year students.

"I can't believe we're forced to take ballet for a day," Ron grumbled on their way back up to Gryffindor Tower.

"A _whole_ day?" Hermione gasped. "That sounds very intense."

Ron's ears turned slightly red. "Well, it's only for an hour actually…" he admitted. Hermione sent him an exasperated look for his over-exaggeration and he quickly added, "But it doesn't matter how long I have to do it for – I know I don't want to take up bloody _ballet_."

Hermione pressed her lips together, not willing to be drawn into an argument about it and instead tried to figure out how she was feeling at the prospect of taking part in a magical ballet lesson. She was obviously excited to try something that she was secretly so intrigued by, but she was also incredibly apprehensive that her ridiculous, tentative dream could be shot down so soon if it turned out she didn't have the capability for the art. But what if she _did_ find that she enjoyed it and had potential? From what Parvati and Lavender told her last year, it sounded like ballet was not just a casual club to sign up to for a bit of fun – it would be something she had to be really committed to. And there was the rumoured harsh teaching style of the instructors as well. Hermione wasn't used to teachers offering her criticism because she made sure she was as academically prepared for their lessons as possible. Ballet wasn't something she could prepare for in the same way because it wasn't just a question of her knowing what her body needed to do, it was whether she could actually get her body to _do_ it and do it _well_. She knew she would have so much to learn to get to the standard of the ballet dancers she had seen, but how would she cope with receiving blunt critiques that apparently resulted in many students dropping out before their first year was complete? And then there was the added question of whether a commitment to ballet would impact on her academic performance.

There was certainly a lot to think about and Hermione's thoughts chased around her head all night and through to the next afternoon so that by the time she descended into the Great Hall, she was extremely tense and incredibly nervous. The training clothes that had appeared at the end of her bed when she woke that morning were not doing much for her confidence either. She was so used to the loose and sweeping robes everyone wore in the magical world that donning something that clung to her skin so tightly was rather unsettling. However, though it might just be her mind playing tricks on her, she felt that wearing the long-sleeved black leotard automatically made her posture more graceful and the silky, long skirt flowed nicely as she tried a little spin in her bedroom when no one else was looking. She, like all the other Gryffindors, had tied her normal cloak over herself for the walk down to the Great Hall (despite it being the beginning of summer) because none of them wanted to draw any attention to themselves.

Hermione quickly scuttled out of the Common Room with Harry and Ron, but was too preoccupied with her thoughts to listen to their complaints about the outfits or Ron's gratitude that he was able to get away from the tower before Fred or George caught him in the form-fitting trousers.

The students huddled together in groups as they waited for the class to start. Most were still hiding under cloaks or robes but a few had shrugged off their outer garments and were standing in the middle of the Great Hall with an air of confidence that Hermione envied. There were a few older students there, too, that she recognised as being dancers from the previous day's performance and she suspected they were there to help demonstrate the exercises in the class.

Ron let out a low moan as he surveyed the scene. "Do you think if we just turn around they won't notice that we didn't attend?" he asked lowly.

"I'm sure Malfoy would _love_ to point out that we skived off," Harry muttered in an equally unenthusiastic tone.

Hermione glanced over at the blond boy and saw that he was one of the pupils already with his dance outfit on show and, if he _was_ uncomfortable in it, he wasn't letting it show as his usual haughty expression was firmly in place.

"You know, we _did_ just save the school from closure and defeat a bloody basilisk," Ron whispered as they stood defensively at the side.

"Are you suggesting that we'd be excused from taking part if we just asked nicely?" Harry questioned sceptically.

Ron shrugged. "We won't know if we don't try."

A sudden hush descended over the Great Hall and the trio turned their heads to see what had triggered it. The ballet instructors – signor and signora Vittozzi – had arrived, stalking imperiously into the room, apparently completely at ease with all eyes on them.

"Well, now's your chance, Ron," Hermione whispered. "They don't look like the sort that will be _at all offended_ at a request to quit their class," she said teasingly, not taking her eyes away from the proud-looking pair.

"Ha, ha," Ron retorted sarcastically under his breath as the ballet teachers reached the front of the room and turned around to survey the wary students before them, who seemed to be collectively holding their breath.

"Magical Ballet is only for the strongest and most talented amongst you," signor Vittozzi declared in a voice with a strong Italian accent. "Even from the first step, it is not an easy path."

"But the rewards of reaching the pinnacle of ballet can see you perform all over the world and revered by witches and wizards everywhere," signora Vittozzi continued and Hermione blinked in surprise. She had been expecting another Italian accent but the signora sounded extremely English to Hermione's ears. "Today you will discover if the potential for greatness and beauty lies within you."

"I think I already know the answer to that," Ron muttered grumpily. Hermione threw him a scandalised look for talking at the same time as the teachers, but she saw Harry fighting a grin and turned back to the front with a small, disapproving shake of her head.

"Remove any outer garments you are still wearing," signora Vittozzi instructed. "Girls on this side of the hall, boys to the other side with my husband. Quickly now," she added sharply when her orders weren't being carried out quick enough for her liking.

Hermione gave her friends a harried look, feeling the nervousness within her reach new heights. "Good luck," she said quickly.

Harry nodded. "You too."

"What do we need luck for when it's something we don't even want to do," Ron grouched as he trudged away to the other side of the hall, Harry behind him.

Hermione hurriedly undid the clasp on her cloak, rested it alongside all the other girls' garments and rushed to find a place roughly in the middle so that she wasn't at the front but wasn't so far back that she couldn't see what was going on. The middle was quite densely populated and only a few girls had attempted to hide towards the back. Looking forwards, Hermione was a little surprised to see Pansy and most of the other Slytherin girls ahead of her. In Hermione's experience, she found that those particular girls showed little enthusiasm for their lessons but maybe ballet was of more interest to them.

Glancing over to the other half of the hall, Hermione saw that the Slytherin boys were mostly in front there, too. However, the rear of the hall was much more cluttered with reluctant boy dancers and, unsurprisingly, that's where she caught a glimpse of Ron and Harry's self-conscious figures.

A few older students moved through the girls, adjusting their positions slightly so they were more spaced out. They then held the tip of their wand to each girl's palm and murmured an incantation that Hermione didn't quite catch. Hermione looked at her hand suspiciously, wondering what spell had been enacted. As though in response to her thoughts, signora Vittozzi explained to them all, "The charm will give you the sensation of holding onto the barre as we go through our first exercises." She swept her eyes over the hall and seemed satisfied with what she saw because she nodded quickly and then elegantly shifted her stance into what Hermione recognised from her previous ballet experience as first position.

Over the next half an hour, Hermione watched closely as signor and signora Vittozzi instructed them through a number of barre exercises. She was relieved that some of the movements like pliés and tendus were familiar to her, and she focused on copying the demonstrations of the older girls as accurately as she could. The Vittozzis moved amongst the second years, making corrections to the students' posture, the turnout of their feet, the line of their arms and their head position. Hermione was hyper-aware of the movements of the two instructors but she couldn't keep an eye on them all the time, so she was taken a little bit by surprise when she suddenly felt a hand on her back, forcing her shoulders down, and another raising her elbow up by an inch to improve her second position. Signora Vittozzi came into view out of the corner of Hermione's eye, and she tried not to get distracted by her presence as she watched her attempts at the rond de jambe with close scrutiny.

The signora tsked loudly. "Your posture is atrocious," she told Hermione bluntly, coming to stand directly in front of her. "Shoulders _down_, back straight, neck long," she instructed, manipulating Hermione's body until it met something close to her standards. "Slide the foot through first position every single time," she said loudly to the room as a whole, but Hermione saw the signora glance down at her feet with a distasteful expression before she turned away to criticise someone else. Hermione tried to take the comments in good grace; Vittozzi was trying to help her improve, after all, even if she trembled internally at being described as atrocious for the first time in her life.

Her body soon started to ache at the unfamiliar way she was using it but there was no respite. As soon as their barre exercises were completed (the older students quickly cancelling the charms on everyone's hands) they were put to the test with some centre work. Without the balancing spell to steady them, the second years wobbled a lot more as they completed similar exercises to the ones they had at the barre. There was so much to remember with the placement of the arms and the turn out of the feet that it was sometimes difficult to remember what step she had to do next, and she was relieved when signor Vittozzi announced they were to move on to the jumping section. But her relief was short-lived as she very quickly found herself out of breath and her legs burning. Hermione seriously thought that she'd be in better shape after two years of climbing around the castle. Hermione would argue that her recent petrification accounted for this lack of fitness but she knew for a fact that her body's condition had not deteriorated during her time in the Hospital Wing. The Vittozzis barked at them all to jump higher, stretch their legs, point their toes and watch their arms, and the difficulty only increased when they started to doing turning jumps that left most of the students very dizzy.

Hermione had managed to avoid any great sense of embarrassment during the course of the lesson because she knew that all the other students were trying just as hard to avoid being yelled at, so there was no chance to laugh at each other. Unfortunately, there was just enough time before the end of the lesson for them to perform travelling steps like skips, gallops and leaps diagonally across the hall in small groups. Hermione watched in consternation as the older students demonstrated the moves with perfect poise and landed their split leaps in impossible silence.

She could hear Ron muttering curse words under his breath behind her at how little he wanted to skip across the hall, but Hermione watched the first group of students intensely to make sure she had memorised the steps correctly. Her first attempt wasn't terrible and she seemed to finish in time with the music, unlike most of the other people in her group. By the third go, she felt confident that she knew what she was doing and allowed herself a smile of triumph for her efforts. It was nowhere near the level of the older students, of course, but she was pleased with herself nonetheless, and, when she glanced over at the Vittozzis, she found that the married couple were watching her. The husband was looking at her more favourably than the wife, who leaned forwards to whisper something in his ear. He sent her a mildly disapproving glance and shrugged his shoulders before they both turned their attention to the next group. Hermione wondered whether signora Vittozzi had said something about her. If she had, it didn't appear to have been anything particularly positive.

The class finished a couple of minutes later, much to most people's relief, and the Vittozzis announced that there would be signup sheets posted in each Common Room, which would only remain there until nine o'clock the next morning. Hermione felt a little alarmed that she would have to make a decision so quickly about whether to take up ballet, and she was so unsure about what she was going to do that she didn't even hear most of Ron and Harry's moaning about the torture they'd endured as they returned, sweaty and aching, back to the Common Room.

"What did you think of it, Hermione?" Harry asked as they closed in on the Fat Lady's portrait.

"Oh," she replied, startled at being drawn into the conversation. "Um, well, I didn't mind it actually." Both boys looked at her in surprise so she added, "But it was even more tiring than I thought it was going to be."

"_Bloody ballet_," Ron muttered scathingly (for what was probably the twentieth time that day) apparently in agreement with her words.

They gave the password to the Fat Lady and then departed to get washed and changed for dinner. Hermione wasn't surprised to see that the new sign-up sheet was devoid of names as she waited for Harry and Ron to emerge from their dormitory, and she wondered if any of her fellow Gryffindors would put themselves forwards before tomorrow morning. She doubted it: all the boys had remained at the very back of that day's class and she already knew that Lavender and Parvati weren't prepared to take on the hard work required. As for Hermione herself, she had come to a decision about _when_ she would make her decision – tomorrow morning, when she woke up. There was no point making her mind up so soon after the class when she had time to come to an informed decision in the morning, and she could see how her body had fared a few hours after the intense workout.

Dinner was a noisy affair as the rest of the Gryffindor second years were noticeably relieved about coming through their ballet ordeal, and now only had the summer holidays to look forward to. Hermione tried to join in with the merriment but she'd never been the greatest in these sorts of social occasions, and her stomach was still fluttering with indecision.

"So, is anyone thinking of signing up to ballet?" Neville asked with an attempt at a casual air, but Hermione could see he was distinctly nervous about the response to his question.

Ron snorted. "No chance," he said, a sentiment echoed by the rest of the Gryffindor boys.

Neville looked quite perturbed, and his cheeks became quite red as he glanced down at his ice cream.

Hermione wasn't the only one to notice his behaviour.

"Neville?" Harry asked with a frown. "What's wrong?"

Neville lifted a spoonful of vanilla ice cream to his lips and he mumbled a response, before shoving his dessert in his mouth.

"What?" Harry questioned, clearly, like Hermione, having not heard a word of what he'd said.

Neville choked a little on the ice cream and his face turned even redder as the group's gazes zeroed in on him. "Gran wants me to do it," he admitted in a voice barely above a whisper.

Hermione couldn't quite keep an astonished look off of her face and Harry looked equally surprised. Ron, however, just shook his head and said firmly, "It's your life, Neville. Your grandmother can't _make_ you do something you don't want to do." Then his expression became suspicious. "You _don't_ want to do ballet, _do you_?"

"No, I, well, it's just," Neville stammered. "Maybe it'll be good for me, like Gran says. I'd only do it for a year to get the initial qualification and pick up the key dances – I don't think I'd be good enough to progress further." He looked at Ron in mild confusion. "Doesn't your mother want you to do it?"

Ron shrugged and shoved a large spoonful of raspberry ice cream into his mouth. "I'm sure she'd love me to but it bloody well isn't going to happen and she knows it," he declared thickly as he swallowed the ice cream. "Percy did it for a year, much to Mum's delight," he muttered, throwing an annoyed glance down the table at his older brother, "and Bill kept it up until his OWLs, but I'd sooner take up extra Potions lessons with Snape than ballet."

Neville shuddered at what, for him, would be such a terrifying alternative but he still looked around at the rest of the Gryffindors a little desperately. "There must be one of you that wants to do ballet with me," he said pleadingly. "I don't want to go on my own – I know all the Slytherins will sign up and Malfoy always picks on me whenever he gets the chance."

Hermione could see all the boys were steadfastly avoiding Neville's imploring gaze. She didn't understand why partaking in ballet was so important to Neville or his Gran, but she felt a strong urge to help him.

"I'll join up with you," she found herself saying before she lost her nerve.

The look of hopeful relief on Neville's face was quickly upstaged by the loud laughter emanating from Ron. "_You_?" he asked in amused disbelief. "Do ballet?"

Hermione instantly felt herself become tense. "Why shouldn't I?" she asked defensively. Was the idea really so ridiculous?

"Well, you're all about books and essays, aren't you?" Ron explained, looking increasingly confused that she wasn't actually attempting some sort of joke.

"So I'm not allowed to have interests outside of my academic studies?" she questioned, a hint of anger creeping into her voice.

Ron shrugged. "You never struck me as the sort for all the sequins and prancing about, no offence," he added unconvincingly, which only made her more irritated. "Besides, you're not a pureblood."

Hermione felt a stabbing sensation in her chest. "What has that got to do with anything?" she asked, forcing herself to keep her voice level.

Harry was watching the conversation with a wary expression on his face and Ron seemed to realise he'd said something that was potentially offensive because he quickly explained, "Only purebloods study ballet, that's all. It's just an old tradition for snobby pureblood families to show off that their children are good dancers. If your son or daughter actually joined a magical ballet company when they left school, it was considered a great honour and all the other families would be spitting with jealousy," he said, rolling his eyes to show how ridiculous he thought this was. "That's not really the case anymore, but most traditional pureblood families expect their kids to study it for a couple of years anyway."

"So that's why you think the Slytherins will all sign up?" Harry asked Neville.

He nodded. "It's why Gran wants me to do it," he said. "Tradition means a lot to her and she says both my mum and dad studied it for a couple of years too." He glanced at Hermione. "It's OK, Hermione, I understand if you don't want to do it anymore."

She felt a resolve settle deep within her. She didn't care one jot that magical ballet was only really studied by purebloods at Hogwarts. She'd had far too much experience of being singled out because of her blood status that year. It had almost cost her life and she'd missed a significant amount of schooling because some witches and wizards thought that she didn't belong in their world but, ironically, that was when she _thrived_. When people told her that she couldn't do something, that was when she was her most determined to succeed, and she wasn't going to let the traditional views of the pureblood families stand in her way when there was something she wanted to do. And she knew, now, how _desperately_ she wanted to study ballet; to be like the dancers she'd seen on stage the previous day. She expected she'd have reached that conclusion before the cut-off time tomorrow morning, but it had certainly been cemented by Ron's attitude and the expectations she was about to smash – because nobody told Hermione Granger what she should or shouldn't do with her life.

"Neville," she said clearly and confidently, "I'd _love_ to sign up to Magical Ballet with you."

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A/N So, this story has been with me for well over a year and it's been my own secret little Theo/Hermione project that I've been working on when the muse for my other stories has evaporated. I kept it to myself for so long because there was no pressure to keep writing as it was just mine, but there comes a point when you've got to dangle it out there a get some feedback. Hopefully you guys will grow to love this as much as I do. I know there was no Theo yet but this is actually his story far more than Hermione's, so get ready for lots of Theo PoV in the future.

Anyway, let me know what you think - interested to read more?

Love,

Red


	2. Third Year - Part One

A/N: Eek! Thank you for all the support you've shown this story, everyone. It is very much appreciated!

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Third Year - Part One

Theo walked with a mild sense of excitement to his first Magical Ballet class alongside the rest of the third year Slytherins – well, _most_ of them. Draco still hadn't returned from the Hospital Wing after the previous day's brutal attack from that oaf's beastly hippogriff. It had certainly been a dramatic introduction to Care of Magical Creatures, and Theo couldn't help but feel that Draco had been fortunate to escape with his life: from what he'd seen, it looked like the hippogriff had been about to stamp its hooves right onto Draco's face! Knowing Lucius Malfoy quite well, Theo doubted that Hagrid would be a Hogwarts teacher for much longer.

The incident was all anyone had been able to talk about for the last twenty-four hours, but he and his friends finally moved on from the subject in the build up to their first ballet class. He had never considered not taking on magical ballet: it was expected of him and he was happy to fulfil the obligation. He had been to various society functions over the years and seen first-hand the role dance played in those circles - from the traditional dances performed at family celebrations, balls and galas, right through to evenings when prestigious magical ballet companies would perform in the opulent Merlin Theatre in London - the peak in the social calendar for pureblood families. On one occasion when Theo was a small child, he had been fortunate enough to watch the Ballet du Monde company - arguably the best company in the world. And on stage that night, in leading roles, were the two dancers that were now to be his instructors. Francesco and Katriona Vittozzi had been Principal dancers with the distinguished company and performed in magical communities all around the world. Theo didn't have any idea how Professor Dumbledore was able to convince them to teach at Hogwarts after they retired, but it was an honour to receive dance instruction from such legends of the art. Theo aimed to do his very best under their tutelage so that he wouldn't let them, his father or his mother down.

He felt a painful stirring at the thought of his mother, but he quickly shoved it aside as he followed his housemates into the rehearsal studio. It was a room not much bigger than many of the other classrooms at Hogwarts, but the three walls without windows consisted of nothing but mirrors from the floor to the ceiling, giving the impression that the space was larger than it really was. The interior of the castle was typically quite cool but the temperature of the dance room was rather warm, and Theo felt happy to shrug off his outer robe without worrying about becoming cold. Signor Vittozzi brusquely instructed them to put their belongings to one side, change into their dance shoes and then gather at the front with their wands.

All the students hurried to obey his instructions and Theo was one of the first to take his place before the legendary dance instructor. As he waited for the others to fall in beside him, he glanced around to see which students from the rest of the houses had signed up. He wasn't particularly surprised to see such a small number of students from Ravenclaw (Boot, Brocklehurst and Corner) because he knew they tended to prioritise their studies over everything else. There was a larger group of Hufflepuffs (Abbott, Bones, Macmillan and a few others) who were probably trying to make up for being landed in such a dud of a house. Theo barely managed to refrain from rolling his eyes when he caught sight of Longbottom moving timidly over to the group, but his disdain for the inept Gryffindor was completely trumped by his utter astonishment at seeing Granger, the _mudblood_, hurrying self-consciously next to him.

Theo wasn't the only one to notice this utterly astounding addition to their ballet group. "What's _she_ doing here?" he heard Pansy whisper sneeringly to the rest of the Slytherin girls. "I thought I could smell something disgusting and now I know why!" There was the unmistakable sound of sniggers being muffled by hands. Theo was still amazed that Hermione Granger was there taking ballet with them, pretending as though it was a totally normal thing. Didn't she know that only purebloods studied magical ballet? Had nobody told her that only those with such noble heritages could expect their body to be able to cope with the rigorous demands of the art? Perhaps, Theo thought, that was _exactly_ what had happened: as far back as he could remember, Theo's family had explained very clearly all about how the purity of his blood made him so superior to most other witches and wizards and, particularly, _mudbloods._ Clearly, no one had done the same for Granger. Theo looked away from her quickly: it was almost _embarrassing_ to have her there…

"We will begin the lesson shortly," signor Vittozzi said, raking his gaze over the assembled students, "but first I will outline the aims for this year – it is important for us to know where we are headed, no?" A couple of the students gave small nods in response but most just stood, waiting expectantly for him to continue. "The first year's study will actually involve little magic because you need to build up the strength in your body; introducing the magic into your body too soon can lead to serious injuries."

Theo already knew that because his father had told him over summer. Apparently it was normal to start off slowly so that the weaker students could quit before things got serious, and only the strongest remained. Theo's father hadn't said so explicitly but Theo felt sure (going by everything that his father _had_ told him) that it would be the students whose blood was purest who would make the best dancers – how could it be otherwise? He highly doubted that Granger would last more than two weeks.

"So, much of our work this year will focus on building up that strength and learning the steps that underpin all ballet work," signor Vittozzi continued, his Italian accent rolling pleasantly off of his tongue. "But we will also learn the traditional dances that you might come across in society functions throughout Britain and Europe. There will be a graded examination around Easter, along with our showcase performance in front of the rest of the school at the end of the year. Now, let's dance."

Signor Vittozzi demonstrated how to perform the balancing charm for their hand, and a few minutes were wasted as some people struggled to perform the fiddly spell. Out of the corner of his eye, Theo noticed that Granger mastered the spell almost at once and she eventually had to complete it for Longbottom because he couldn't do it for himself.

Once that was completed, the ballet class truly began. They methodically went through the exercises in a similar order to their sample lesson from the previous summer. Signor Vittozzi demonstrated the finer technical aspects of the different moves before they began but, without the older students to model along with the music, a few of the third years struggled. Theo couldn't stop himself from glancing over at Granger periodically and he was surprised to find that, while there were certainly improvements to be made to her posture and technique, she was managing to keep pace with the steps. Longbottom, on the other hand, was receiving at least twice the amount of attention from signor Vittozzi as the rest of the students put together. Theo reckoned that the Longbottoms must have a direct mudblood ancestor that their family had long tried to keep quiet about…

Theo was so distracted by his discrete observations of the Gryffindors that he performed a completely wrong move in the middle of their fondus exercise.

"Focus your attention, Mr Nott," signor Vittozzi called to him and Theo's face flushed with shame. He resolved to push his unseemly interest in Granger aside for the rest of the class to ensure that he performed at the level he expected of himself. He was able to achieve this thanks to his natural ability to concentrate on whatever he set his mind to, and his satisfaction with his own performance levels rose as the class went on. There was no doubt that it was tiring work though and, as they moved through the exercises without the help of the balancing charm, all the students became sweaty and red-faced. Signor Vittozzi didn't take pity on his new charges. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying pointing out how much their fitness levels needed to increase if they were to see the year's dance classes through.

After the completion of a particularly gruelling exercise of jumps, signor Vittozzi looked somewhat amused as he announced, "We will complete that exercise five more times, without a break," much to the disbelief of his exhausted students. "Anyone who gets to the end will get twenty-five points for their house."

It was a substantial reward but Theo had no doubt that signor Vittozzi had named such a high figure because he doubted many – if _any_ – of them would achieve it. Eager to make up for his earlier blunder, Theo resolved to get to the end. However, as he neared the end of the first set, his body told him that it wouldn't be possible. His legs burned as he pushed his body harder than he'd ever done before and he struggled to draw in enough breath. Signor Vittozzi barked his encouragement, telling them to jump higher, squeeze their muscles and keep going. Theo could sense the people around him starting to pull out of the challenge mid-way through the second run and his body desperately wanted to join them but he forced himself to continue. Somehow, he managed to complete the second and third set and he was able to take a tiny sense of positivity from the fact that he was now over halfway through.

"Up, up!" Vittozzi commanded eagerly, clapping his hands to correspond with their jumps.

Theo's breath was coming in noisy, ragged pants and he doubted he looked at all like a ballet student anymore with his technique suffering as a result of his exhaustion.

"One more set to go!" the dance instructor cried, looking excited, his eyes darting between Theo and what must be another student still in the running. Spots were starting to appear in front of Theo's eyes but he was so close to the finish that he refused to give in. Four more jumps…

"Bravo!" signor Vittozzi called loudly, applauding as Theo stumbled to a halt after his final jump. He crouched down, resting his hands on his legs as he sucked in a huge lungful of air after another, and tried not to pass out. "Very impressive feats of determination. I can't recall ever having two students be successful. What about you, my dear?"

It took Theo a few moments for signor Vittozzi's words to make sense in his exhausted mind and he realised that signora Vittozzi must have entered the room during their torturous jump session. Theo tried to look up but his head was completely drenched with sweat and some of it had dripped into his eyes, making them sting terribly. He swiped the moisture away roughly and forced himself to stand upright in the stance expected of someone of his breeding. Signora Vittozzi gave him the smallest of approving nods at his improved posture before she returned her imperious gaze to her husband. Theo noticed that her features didn't soften much.

"No, indeed," she agreed. "It's rare that we have any finishers at all." Her sharp eyes moved to a point behind Theo. "But two is most… _unprecedented._" It was obvious that there was more to those words beyond the obvious, and Theo shifted his still-aching body so he could see who else had managed to impress the Vittozzis.

His jaw dropped in complete disbelief.

No.

It wasn't possible, surely? And yet, there she was: red-faced, sweaty, panting and utterly dishevelled, but with a gleam of victory in her features.

How _in Salazar's name_ had a mudblood come through such a gruelling physical challenge?!

Before Theo could recall all of his father's lectures on the deficiencies of muggles, Granger's gaze glanced up to meet his and his mind went utterly blank. He didn't think he'd ever looked into her eyes before – into the eyes of _anyone _of her breeding, actually – and all he could do was stare at her. The corners of her mouth turned up slightly and, with a shock, he realised that she was _smiling_ at him.

Theo jerked his head back round to the front of the classroom and snapped his jaw closed hard enough to cause pain to flash along his lower face. How _dare_ she smile at him as though they were equals? What a ridiculous notion!

Only a handful of seconds had elapsed since Theo had first glanced in Granger's direction and the Vittozzis were still looking at her.

"I'm afraid I don't know your name," the ballet mistress's tone was very curt as she spoke to Granger, but Theo refused to look around to see how the girl was reacting to the hostility.

"Hermione Granger, signora," she replied breathlessly.

Signora Vittozzi raised a delicate eyebrow. "_Granger_?" she repeated with polite confusion. "I'm not familiar with that surname."

Theo was fairly sure that he could hear the sound of stifled giggles coming from the Slytherin girls but Granger's confident reply was, "Really? I've found it's a fairly common name."

The signora's eyes narrowed. "Common in the _muggle_ world?" she asked, her voice still overly polite.

"Yes," came Granger's defensive response.

"You have muggle parentage?" Signora Vittozzi inquired but Theo was pretty sure she already knew the answer to that. The atmosphere in the room was incredibly tense as the rest of the students watched the exchange in silence.

"I do," Granger replied tersely. "Is that a problem, signora?" She was trying to sound brave but Theo definitely heard a tremor in her voice; he wasn't surprised – it wasn't like Granger to challenge a teacher.

Signor Vittozzi looked displeased at the question but his wife didn't appear fazed at all. "It's certainly unfortunate for your chances of performing well in this art," she replied calmly. Theo's resolve not to look Granger's way crumbled and he watched a number of emotions flicker across her face at the ballet mistress's blunt words. "It's well-known that those born with a magical lineage that is passed down from their parents perform ballet better – some would say that it's in their _blood_, Miss Granger."

Granger looked utterly stunned at hearing a teacher state what was (to Theo, at least) a universal truth about mudblood inferiority. Obviously, just like he had predicted, no one _had_ told her that she was unsuited to magical ballet.

"Some people say that about performing all magic but that's rubbish," a voice piped up and Theo was startled to see that Longbottom was the speaker. He looked terrified to have the attention of the room but he squeezed his hands into fists and said, "Hermione's top of our year – she can do _anything_ the professors ask her to."

"I'm sure my wife meant no offence," signor Vittozzi said softly and raised a calming hand, obviously sensing the hostility emanating from the Gryffindors.

"Of course not," the signora added but she didn't sound particularly genuine to Theo's ears – and nor should she be seeing as she was simply speaking the truth about pureblood supremacy.

"Your heritage _is_ a disadvantage, Miss Granger, but only because a lot of the old magical families grow up with the ballet as part of their childhood," signor Vittozzi explained. He looked around at the other students. "Who has been taken to watch magical ballet companies with their relatives?"

All the students except Granger raised their hand.

"They have been exposed to it from a young age," the dance instructor said simply taking a few steps towards her. His tone was almost kind but Granger watched him stiffly. "Many of them will have already received tuition prior to this class and will know the basics of a lot of the traditional dances. So, yes, you are at a clear disadvantage, but that does not mean you cannot succeed if that is your wish. Hard work, determination and a love of dance are the most significant factors in ensuring your progress in this art. Today has been a good start for you."

She watched him cautiously, still looking rather emotional. "Thank you, signor," she murmured.

He nodded and glanced up at the other students. "Class is over for today. You will return on Thursday for your next lesson."

He turned his back on the students, immediately dismissing them, but his wife's gaze lingered on Granger for a few moments longer before she joined him by the gramophone that had provided the music during their lesson. The students packed away their things quietly while they discreetly watched Granger and the Vittozzis. Granger was acting like nothing had happened but the ballet teachers were talking quietly to each other, both looking unhappy.

* * *

Hermione deposited her heaving bag onto the floor and then collapsed onto her bed with a soft groan. She knew it was probably foolish to indulge her exhaustion for even a few seconds when her ballet class started in just twenty minutes, but her eyelids pulled irresistibly downwards and she was powerless to stop them.

She was over two months into her third year now and her busy schedule was certainly beginning to take its toll. She couldn't complain though, because the chance to study all the different magical subjects was exactly what she had requested. It was only thanks to the time-turner that she was able to attend all her lessons, and she was so grateful that Professor McGonagall had gone to great lengths to provide her with one.

Of her new subjects, she found Ancient Runes and Arithmancy particularly fascinating and it was also intriguing to study muggles from the point of view of witches and wizards. After the dramatic events of their first Care of Magical Creatures lesson, that subject had become somewhat tame – not that she'd be telling Hagrid that. She knew that he had the potential to deliver interesting and educational lessons but the threat of Buckbeak's hearing hovered over him like a black cloud, and he obviously didn't dare try introducing any other animals that could harm the students, which was why they had been stuck looking after flobberworms ever since. However, Hermione heartily preferred spending time with Hagrid than in the stuffy Divination tower with Professor Trelawney. As far as she was concerned, Divination was little more than a waste of time, but she wasn't about to let the barmy professor be the first person to force her to quit something.

But Professor Trelawney wasn't rude or dismissive, unlike signora Vittozzi. The ballet mistress was careful not to say anything derogatory about Hermione's blood status but it was plainly written across her face every time she looked her way. At first, Hermione had been a little stunned that a Hogwarts professor could be so openly prejudiced against someone's heritage and she'd considered making a complaint to Professor McGonagall, but she could hardly complain that the signora looked distinctly unimpressed whenever she glanced Hermione's way, could she? Hermione had decided that the best way to respond to her ballet mistress's disdain was to prove her assumptions about muggleborns wrong, and it made her even more determined to become a good dancer. And, thanks to her hard work, she knew that she was improving week by week.

Hermione sighed and rolled off of the bed to get changed for her lesson. As she did so, she glanced through the notes she'd made from the previous few dance classes. Ron and the others thought that she couldn't apply her usual studying techniques to ballet and they were right, to an extent, but she was treating it like another academic class as much as she could. Over the summer, she had checked out a couple of muggle ballet books from her local library and made notes on the vocabulary for the different steps. Her mother had let her rent a couple of videotapes of muggle ballet productions from the local rental shop and she had even tried (very unsuccessfully) to copy some of the moves in her living room. However, her biggest effort during the summer months came from the disappointment she'd felt in her fitness levels during the sample class, and so she'd regularly gone out for runs and attended a couple of exercise classes with her mother. The result of her efforts meant that she was one of only two students to see the signor's jump series through to the end – something she was very proud of, even though it had brought her to the signora's attention. After each class, Hermione would meticulously copy down any new exercises they were taught and made note of improvements the Vittozzis made to her technique (of which there would be many if the signora was teaching).

Satisfied that she was prepared for her lesson, Hermione hurried down the dormitory stairs and smiled at Neville, who was waiting for her in the common room. The only person in their class who received more criticism from the signora was Neville and, by his own admission, he wasn't particularly skilled at ballet. However, after Neville had stood up for her in the first class, Hermione would never say a word against him. They had recently begun learning some of the traditional dances from magical society. Much of this involved partner work and Hermione had been paired with Neville. It was not an ideal partnership because he frequently forgot the choreography and had stepped on her toes more than once. She knew that the Slytherins were laughing at them but she didn't care – she'd much rather have a friend who had her back than a proficient partner that would drop her immediately in the name of self-preservation.

"Could we go over the steps to the gavotte before the start of the class?" Neville asked her as they made their way through the castle. "I can't remember what happens beyond the first few steps."

"Of course," Hermione agreed, more than a little used to these requests by now. Personally, she thought that learning the traditional dances was a bit of a waste of time because she couldn't really envision an occasion in the future where she would actually perform them beyond Hogwarts – it wasn't as though the Slytherins were going to invite her to one of their snooty balls! However, she knew that a lot of the Pureblood families had encouraged their children to sign up to magical ballet precisely so that they could learn these dances for their societal gatherings. And, what was more, a number of them had already received tutelage _from_ signora Vittozzi since a young age. That was why they had all been so good and confident in the taster lesson the previous summer. Appearances were obviously very important to those old families and if they wanted their children to know the old-fashioned society dances then the signora would be foolish not to teach them. Hermione performed them to the best of her ability but she much preferred the work they did on pure ballet – that was what had driven her to sign up for the classes in the first place.

When they reached the corridor of the dance classrooms, they found most of the other students in their class waiting outside. This was a common occurrence on Thursdays because the class before theirs was for the senior dancers (those in their sixth and seventh years) and it was rare that they would finish a minute before they had to. Unfortunately, the thick wooden door was closed, preventing them from ever seeing the older dancers at work, but the third years would always quieten to a respectful near-silence when the talented dancers walked past them on their way out, their toned bodies sweat-drenched and faces red from their exertions.

There was still a few minutes until their class was scheduled to begin, so Hermione placed her and Neville's belongings to the side and started rehearsing the steps of the gavotte. When they had run it through, Hermione enlisted the help of Susan Bones and Ernie Macmillan to make a foursome that was more accurate to how the dance would be performed.

"You need to wait a couple of counts longer before you do the turning step, Neville," Hannah Abbott commented, watching the dance carefully so she could spot anything Hermione had missed.

"Let's try it again," Ernie suggested and the four of them retook their places.

Hermione's smile grew wider as they successfully moved through the dance; she loved that the students from the other houses were supportive of each other – well, _most_ of the other houses, anyway. Right on cue, the Slytherins turned into the corridor and the friendly atmosphere cooled at once. Neville, concentrating hard on his steps, hadn't noticed and bumped right into Hermione, who had unconsciously paused at the arrival of the Slytherins. She stumbled rather inelegantly at the impact and there were a number of snickers at her expense, the heartiest of which belonged to Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy.

"She's _awful_, isn't she?" Pansy giggled, not bothering to keep her voice down as she turned to the rest of the Slytherins.

"I've only got one working arm and I can do it better than _that_!" Malfoy added.

"There's nothing wrong with your arm, Malfoy," Hermione accused bitterly before she could stop herself. She had always found him irritating and deeply unpleasant, but that had been magnified ever since he had done everything he could to jeopardise Hagrid's career after Buckbeak had wounded him. She, Harry and Ron were convinced that Malfoy had fully recovered from the injury so that he could make things bad for Hagrid and avoid doing as much work as possible. Hermione had been watching him closely in ballet to try and catch him out but, unfortunately, he was clever enough to make sure he didn't use that arm extensively when she was around.

Apart from her discrete observations, she would mostly ignore him and all of the other Slytherins if they whispered insults at her when they knew the Vittozzis wouldn't hear: it wasn't worth engaging them or becoming upset because that was exactly what they wanted.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed at her words and an affronted expression twisted his face. "How _dare_ you speak to me?"

Blood rushed to Hermione's face as anger flushed through her body. She was so sick of this ridiculous fallacy that her parents being muggles made her inferior to everyone else. Would she really have to spend her entire life in the magical world proving bigots like Malfoy wrong? "How dare I?" she repeated as calmly as she could. "_Easily._ You're nothing special, Malfoy."

The Slytherins looked positively scandalised and the other students watched wide-eyed. Spots of pink blossomed on Malfoy's furious face. "You _disgust_ me," he sneered vehemently.

"Tell that piece of filth exactly what she is, Draco," Pansy encouraged, glaring at Hermione.

Hermione found Pansy almost as irritating as Malfoy and she refused to be intimidated by the horrible girl, so she took a step forwards instead. "Say it," she challenged him and then shrugged. "I don't care. It hasn't stopped me before and it's never going to stop me from doing what I want or showing what I'm capable of."

If she thought Malfoy looked angry before, he looked apoplectic now. He took a step forwards and opened his mouth to give some sort of vitriolic retort when the atmosphere was broken by a loud, patronising sigh. "Look, Tam, the children are squabbling," a female voice said.

Hermione glanced along the corridor and saw that the advanced class had obviously finished because the dancers were emerging from the classroom. Embarrassment crept over her skin as each of the older students took in the confrontation before them. The girl who had spoken had shiny black hair that had been plaited into an intricate bun, and Hermione was sure that she'd seen her pointed nose and high cheekbones in a Slytherin uniform. As she turned to the tall, brown-haired boy next to her with a condescending, "How juvenile," the haughty air and roll of her eyes certainly indicated that house. Hermione stepped back so she wasn't going to be blocking the corridor but then she heard the girl gasp. "Oh, never mind. You know who _that_ is, right? I think it's a disgrace they let her in, don't you?"

The girl's voice carried clearly down the corridor and Malfoy smirked victoriously in Hermione's direction. "_Mudblood,_" he muttered and then turned smugly back to his laughing friends.

Neville put a consoling hand on Hermione's arm, but for some reason that made her feel more emotional and she could feel her eyes stinging for the first time since the start of her encounter with Malfoy.

The older students were almost level with her now, the black-haired ballerina leading the way, next to the tall boy whom Hermione was pretty sure she'd also recognised as being from Slytherin. Hermione was doing her best to ignore them but some sixth sense told her to glance up. The boy was looking at her. This wasn't particularly surprising as the pointy-nosed student next to him had been so intent on pointing her out, but the expression on his face _was_. Instead of the disgusted or sneering look she'd anticipated, he actually looked mildly troubled – as though he felt sympathy for her. Hermione would have convinced herself that she was imagining it but, as she stared at him, he half-smiled and jerked his lower face upwards slightly, as though saying to her, 'Keep your chin up.' No one else seemed to have noticed this astonishing show of support for they carried on as normal: the black-haired girl was gossiping loudly over her shoulder to someone behind her as the older students walked past and the third years were gathering their things for class.

"Hermione? Are you alright?" Hannah asked gently.

Hermione turned away quickly, realising she'd been staring at the older Slytherin boy's head as it disappeared down the corridor. "I'm fine, Hannah," she said, a strange mixture of emotions pulsing through her. She took her ballet equipment from Hannah, who had been kind enough to bring it over to her. "Thank you. Let's go in before Signora yells at us." Hannah nodded with a small smile and the two girls hurried towards their classroom, Hermione casting a last speculative look after the older students.

* * *

A/N Let me know what you think! Hopefully we'll have another relatively quick update if you like it.

Red


	3. Third Year - Part Two

A/N: Thank you guys SO much for letting me know that you like the story so far. You're all making me super happy!

* * *

Third Year - Part Two

Theo hurried along the familiar path towards the dance studios, lamenting the fact that he had been too absorbed in finishing off his transfiguration homework to notice the time. He wasn't late for a class (he'd _never _let himself commit such a travesty) but he had written his name on the booking form for one of the smaller dance rehearsal rooms, and ten minutes of his allotted time had already passed. It was no easy feat to get time in one of the rehearsal rooms because they were much sought after by the older students to practise their routines alone, in pairs or small groups and the Third Year students were given the sign-up sheet last, leaving them the slots no one else wanted, which was primarily during meals or after curfew. Even so, the rooms were so in-demand that Theo had only been able to book a room twice since Christmas and it was now the end of January.

Most of the other students in his ballet class didn't bother with the extra rehearsal time because they were, after all, still at the very beginning of their journeys as dancers, and they hadn't yet learned enough to really warrant putting in the extra hours. However, over the course of the last few months, Theo had found that there was nothing more he loved to do than dance.

He had always enjoyed the private tutelage he had received when he was younger but he'd merely seen it as more of a duty; a way of life for a child of a distinguished Pureblood family. Now that he had entered the proper education of a young dancer, he had come to look forward to his lessons from the Vittozzis more than any other - and that was saying a lot for he very much enjoyed the academic challenge of his other subjects. But there was something different about the way he was able to gain more control over his body; to feel stronger with each passing week and push himself to the limit whilst attempting to maintain a semblance of poise and grace. A couple of times in his youth, he had wondered if becoming a professional dancer was in his future, but the prospect had seemed so unlikely to come true that he had never thought on it seriously. But that was starting to change as he grew in confidence week on week.

The Vittozzis worked the students hard and were more forthcoming with their criticisms than their praise, but in Theo's mind that only meant that when they _did_ offer you a compliment it had been well earned. He had made it a secret endeavour to work hard enough to earn at least one verbal commendation per lesson from his dance teachers and, so far, he had managed to be successful every time. His desire to impress the Vittozzis was partly the reason behind his booking of a rehearsal studio because he knew that they would cast their eye over the sign up sheet to see which students were putting in the extra effort, and they had previously mentioned to the Third Years that any pupils who took their dancing seriously should sign up for time in a rehearsal room.

Despite the chilly winter corridors, Theo had worked up quite a sweat by the time he reached the dance corridor. He slowed down his pace and adopted a calmer air in case someone important should see him, and he made his way down to the practice room. He stopped just outside the entrance and confirmed that his name truly was on the sign up sheet for the allotted time, before pulling the heavy wooden door open. He hurried in a few steps then stopped abruptly and stared.

What had caused him to stop was the fact that the room was not empty like it should have been - not that this was particularly unusual: rehearsal time was so sought after that if a room was vacant for a few minutes, others were likely to pounce. Nor was it unheard of for younger students to be chucked out if some of the senior dancers urgently needed the time in a studio. Therefore, it was not the sight of Seventh Year Slytherin student Tam Davies that made Theo stare, but rather the person he was with: Hermione Granger.

Theo wasn't so lost in his astonishment that he failed to see that both Davies and Granger were disconcerted by his arrival, but the older dancer was much better at hiding it. "Nott," Davies said evenly, with a small nod in greeting. "We thought you weren't coming. You should try to be more prompt next time - some people would claim the studio as their own if you're more than fifteen minutes late."

While Davies spoke, Granger hurried over to her belongings, threw a loose robe around her shoulders, swept the rest of her things clumsily up into her arms and then headed towards the door.

"Granger," Davies called but the Gryffindor ignored him, gaze set on the door. Theo was certain that she was going to leave without acknowledging him but just before she passed him, she glanced up. Her gaze was apprehensive but there was also a glint of determination in her posture: the lift of her chin daring him to challenge or insult her, but Theo was still so taken aback by the whole situation that he could only watch blankly as she breezed past him.

"Granger," Davies said again, shouldering his bag of belongings and starting to walk after her, but she had already left the room. Davies sighed but he didn't seem terribly put out. Indeed, he shrugged a moment later and turned a relaxed but somewhat appraising gaze on Theo. "Signor tells me you're doing well in your classes, Nott: strong stamina, good posture and improving quickly on your technique."

Befuddled, Theo gazed back at the older Slytherin.

It was impossible not to know who your housemates were in Slytherin because hierarchy was so very important, but Theo didn't know much about Tam Davies except that he had a younger brother who was a Ravenclaw and that he was a particularly gifted dancer - even rumoured to be seeking a place with a magical ballet company upon leaving school. They had never previously spoken, but this was due to the difference in age and Theo's naturally quiet disposition. Theo doubted that he was little more than a name and a face to Davies, but Theo had admired the older boy's dance abilities since seeing him in the end-of-year performance in first year. Davies was at least a head taller than Theo and a good few inches broader across the chest and shoulders. Underneath his school robes, you couldn't tell, but when Davies walked past in his dance attire it was evident that this added breadth was due to a well-toned physique. One thing that Theo had noticed was that Davies seemed to be very popular with the female population of Hogwarts, and girls from all four houses seemed to seek his attention. His honed body was no doubt a factor in this adoration, as was his obvious skill as a dancer - an attribute that Theo had heard was particularly desirable in a romantic partner amongst traditional families (not that it had any impact on Theo's growing wish to be a dancer: most girls barely knew he existed and he was perfectly comfortable with that) but Davies was also blessed with a classically handsome face that girls giggled over when he walked by. It was easy for someone like Theo to look up to Tam Davies, but now that he was stood facing him after interrupting some sort of meeting with an upstart mudblood, Theo didn't know what to think.

Davies raised an eyebrow at Theo's lack of response. "Don't say much, do you?" he muttered, looking at him with a more intense expression of scrutiny than before. Davies seemed to come to some sort of decision because he walked to the door, calling out, "See you around, Nott."

Theo flinched a little when the door was closed with a loud thud and he turned slowly on the spot, almost like he'd been released from a freezing spell. He looked around, still utterly confused: just _what_ in Salazar's name had he walked in on?

That question plagued him all the way through his unsatisfactory rehearsal, his rushed last-minute dinner and his distracted attempts to complete the rest of his homework. Every time he tried to concentrate on something else, his mind wandered back to that dance studio. He'd checked the sign-up sheet as he'd left and seen that Granger's name had been written in for the time before his, which certainly explained what _she'd_ been doing there, but the reason behind Davies' presence was still very much unknown.

A shadow appeared on the piece of parchment he'd been struggling to fill with his assessment of the success of the Warlock Summit of 1655 in relation to accusations of magic by muggles. "Oof, History of Magic, I do not envy you there," a voice said and Theo looked up into the sympathetic face of Tam Davies. "Having to sit through hours of Binns droning on was a weekly torture for me. I only passed my OWL because a friend in Ravenclaw leant me her notes. Well, she wasn't really a friend, more of a _casual_ acquaintance." He laughed and the expression on his face clearly showed that he expected Theo to do the same, but he was so unnerved by being in Davies' presence for the second time in as many hours when they had never spoken before, that he could only look back blankly.

Davies gave him a curious smile and pulled out the chair to sit opposite him. "You _really_ don't talk much, do you?"

Theo glanced around the common room to see if anyone else had noticed this strange sight, but Theo's study table was set apart from the main social area and most people had already gone to bed.

At Theo's continued wary silence, Davies scratched the back of his head and said, "Look, I just wanted to talk about what was happening up there." He gestured in an upwards motion that wasn't necessary because Theo was perfectly aware what he was referring to. "I was giving Granger a bit of help."

That answer would have been the most obvious explanation to most people - an older student giving some tips to a beginner - but Theo was confused. "Why would you do that?" he asked quietly. "She's a mudblood. She's not cut out for magical ballet - you're wasting your time."

Davies didn't react. "You know, I've asked a few people about you tonight. Do you want to know what they said?" Theo's eyebrows rose in surprise. Why would Davies go to the effort to ask about him? Davies didn't wait for a response and revealed, "'Quiet' was the main word, but we've already covered that. There's a lot of respect for your family name - one of the oldest in magical Britain - but, unlike others with similar claims, you don't make a big deal of it. You've never lost our house points, have amicable relationships with the Slytherins in your year but only really consider Malfoy and Zabini to be your friends, primarily the latter. You already know what Signor thinks of your dancing and, academically, you've shown particular skill in Potions, Transfiguration and Charms and have started to show you've got good potential in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes."

Theo was reeling a little at having his life laid out in black and white like that, and he wondered what the purpose was behind Davies' little speech.

"So, we know that you're in possession of a certain level of intelligence," Davies continued. "Which begs the question: if you're so smart, how can you _possibly_ believe any of that crap about blood?"

Theo flinched as though he'd been slapped. "_What?_" he gasped.

"That whole belief that having magical lineage somehow makes you superior to others, that muggleborns are dirty and not capable - it's complete _shit_, Nott. How do you not see that?"

This was crazy. There was no way that he was sat here with Tam Davies - possibly the most popular student in school - and he was stating that the fundamental belief of magic that Theo had been taught before he could even speak, was nothing but a lie. It must be some sort of joke…

"Whatever this is, Davies, it's not funny," Theo told him seriously. He motioned to the other Slytherins sat on the couches. "What if someone else had heard you?"

Davies waved away his concern, which was alarming in itself because dismissing Pureblood supremacy in a roomful of Slytherins wasn't at all advisable. "Tell me something: which student in your year has come out on top in your end-of-year tests so far?"

"Granger," Theo answered honestly, "but my father says that's because she's stolen magic from others."

Davies gave him a look of disbelief. "Stolen magic?" he repeated. "Just listen to yourself, Nott. Does that make any sense? A girl who's had _no_ experience of our world knows how to steal magic off of people? How does she do that?"

Theo shrugged. "Everyone knows muggles are sneaky and untrustworthy, Davies."

"Man, your dad has done a really good job on you, hasn't he?" he muttered. "And what about your first dance lesson - I heard you and Granger were the only ones to finish the jump exercise. How was that possible if she's as physically incapable as you believe?"

"Her stolen magic must have helped her," Theo answered, giving the conclusion he'd settled on after a few days of wondering the same thing, but Davies scoffed loudly.

"Deluded," he said, shaking his head. "Utterly deluded. If you were still a child I could understand it but you're not stupid, Nott - at least I thought you weren't."

Theo felt blood rush to his face. He'd much prefer to have Davies know as little about him as possible than think so negatively of him, but Davies was the one that was ignorant, not Theo. "Why do so many people thinks it's true then?"

"Because it suits them to think that," Davies replied as though it was obvious. "All the wealth, power and knowledge gets shared between the purebloods if they don't let anyone else into their circle."

"But mudbloods come from _muggles_," Theo said, the distaste clear in his voice. "They're dirty."

Davies sent him a flat look. "You actually think that Granger's blood is brown, don't you? How many muggles have you met?"

Theo hesitated. "None," he admitted quietly.

"And everything you've ever been told about them has come from your father?"

"No, from all of my family. And I've read about them in books, too," Theo said defensively.

"And who gave you the books?"

Theo hesitated again, more blood rushing to his face. "My family."

"Exactly," Davies said, tapping the table to emphasise his point. "You can't live your life just blindly following what others want you to believe about the world - you've got to go out and experience it for yourself. You'll be surprised by what you find, trust me."

"Why are you doing this?" Theo asked, shaking his head in an attempt to ward off Davies' words. "I wasn't going to out you for helping her."

Davies laughed humourlessly. "That's not what this is about: I wouldn't have given a shit if you had on my part - nobody would've cared about me."

"So, what, you're protecting a mudblood?" Theo questioned.

"When you take your head out of your arse, Nott, you'll see that all this blood crap is only going to hold you back from seeing everything's real value," Davies told him seriously. "Personally, I find a witch who, despite her non-magical upbringing and weeks of being petrified, is top of her year, who got up to some dangerous shit with her friends in first-year that resulted in Dumbledore throwing a mountain of points at them, who is brave enough to stand up against centuries of pureblood tradition to pursue an interest that she's passionate about, to be damn well worth knowing. And she doesn't deserve getting loads of shit from idiots who don't know her true value just because I gave her a bit of help with her dancing."

Theo gaped at him, his heart pounding as his world struggled to make sense around him.

"Oh, and there's nothing muddy about her blood, _moron_: she bleeds red, just like you and me," Davies told him with a roll of his eyes and he pushed the chair back to show he was leaving.

Even though his belief system was being blown apart, Theo still managed to repeat, "Why are you doing this?" When Davies looked confused, he added, "You could have just threatened me to keep quiet and leave Granger alone. Why do _this_?" he asked, gesturing between them.

Davies just looked at him for a few moments and Theo tried not to squirm under his gaze. "As I said, you seem to have some intelligence. Most of the other people in this house are too stupid, stubborn or set in their ways to see the truth, but I was hoping that it wasn't too late for you. I just hope I'm not wrong." He rose then and nodded curtly. "Good night, Nott."

Theo watched him go with the uncomfortable feeling that his life might never be the same again. "Good night, Davies."

* * *

He was watching her again. She didn't need to look up at him to check: she could just feel it along her spine. At first, she couldn't blame him because she could barely believe the circumstances herself, but it had been over a week since he had walked in on her with Tam and he was still looking at her when he thought she didn't know. She was severely tempted to confront him about it, but she didn't want to antagonise him when he could make things difficult for her.

Part of her lamented ever talking to Tam when he unexpectedly approached her in the library one day, but she was finding her life so stressful at the moment that his acts of kindness were the only thing that made her smile lately.

Harry and Ron weren't speaking to her. Apparently, trying to prevent your best friend from being murdered was enough of a justification to drop her from their lives. Their actions hurt, _deeply_, and she'd cried about it a fair few times, but she was aware that part of the reason behind her tears was because she was tired_._ Well, that was a bit of an understatement: she was _exhausted_. Her jam-packed schedule was definitely taking its toll, but she refused to let it show in her work, and she was still achieving top marks in all her subjects (apart from Divination but she obviously didn't count that as being a proper academic subject).

Her ballet progress was harder to judge. Signor and signora Vittozzi didn't give them marks out of ten at the end of each class - though the students were now being reminded every lesson that just before Easter they would have a graded examination of the exercises and dances they had been taught. That should make Hermione feel more confident for they completed every exercise at least once a week, and her knowledge of the traditional dances was becoming more secure every lesson so there would be nothing on the test that she didn't know how to do. However, unlike all her other tests, she wasn't being graded on what she _knew_, but how she looked doing it. And, if Hermione went by Signora's weekly comments, she couldn't expect to receive one of the top grades. Her concern about this matter led to her seeking out Tam Davies and taking him up on his previous offer to help with her dancing.

"Signora's a bitch to everyone," Tam said dismissively during their first rehearsal together when she explained why she wanted his help. Hermione audibly gasped at his language in regards to a teacher but he laughed. "Don't be so uptight, Granger - you're not going to be able to dance with a stick up your arse!" He was still smiling amiably at her, which took the sting out of his words, but he could see that she was still uncomfortable with his language. He held up a pacifying hand. "Look, Signora might be hard to like at times, particularly when you're getting to know her, but she's an excellent teacher. I'm sure you have nothing to worry about."

Tam might have been the one to make the somewhat bewildering offer of friendship first but it was still very intimidating to have him watch her so closely. He'd first approached her about a week after her rather embarrassing argument in the dance corridor with Malfoy. She had been about to snap at the person who was interrupting her work on her Ancient Runes translation, but when she looked up and saw the handsome Slytherin dancer smiling easily at her, she was able to do little more than gape as he introduced himself, told her he admired her for taking on something scarcely attempted by muggleborns and to let him know if she ever needed help.

Something about Tam had made her want to trust him straight away but she'd had enough unpleasant experiences with Slytherins to treat his offer with caution. She observed him discreetly over the following days and it was easy to see that he was well-liked, even by some of her fellow Gryffindors. So, by the time she was keen for some reassurance about her dancing, she was reasonably content that he wouldn't just laugh cruelly in her face.

They went through the normal exercises in their first session together and Tam made small adjustments to the shape of her hands and positioning of her head. He also advised her about how to make her movements sharper and more precise, and told her what he did to maintain his balance.

"You're good, Granger. You shouldn't be so insecure," he told her when they called their first session to a close fifteen minutes before the time ran out. Tam didn't care about being seen helping her but Hermione didn't want to give the Slytherins any additional reasons to be cruel to her, so she insisted they not only finish early but leave separately. "We can look at the dances next time."

Hermione looked at him gratefully. "You don't mind giving up more of your time?"

"Dance is my _passion_," he told her in a tone of voice that left her in no doubt at the truthfulness of his words. "Whatever form it takes, I'm more than happy to spend my time doing it."

Their second session took place a couple of weeks later (Tam making use of his earlier access to the sign-up sheet to write her name in a slot before they were all taken) and after a quick warm-up where she showed him how she'd taken his advice on board, they moved onto the traditional dances.

"Why do you keep flinching before the turn?" he asked, flicking his wand to pause the gramophone partway through their polonaise.

"Do I?" she asked in surprise.

They tried it again and Hermione was more self-aware this time. A look of understanding appeared on her face as they moved towards the turn. Tam paused the music again and gave her an expectant look.

"Neville normally goes the wrong way at that point and he's jabbed me in the ribs more than once when that happens," she explained.

"I see," he said, a slight frown on his face. "Well, rest assured, I know what I'm doing even if Longbottom doesn't."

As they made their way through the different dances, it became clear that Hermione was doing lots of other things (some conscious, others not) that stemmed from having Neville as a partner.

"They'll mark you down for anything that contradicts the choreography," Tam warned her after she'd tried to alter her grip on his hand to make sure he stepped in the correct direction like she had to do with Neville.

"But if I don't do it then the dance will probably go wrong and I'll lose marks anyway," she pointed out.

He shrugged. "Then get a new partner - Longbottom's going to hold you back."

Hermione shook her head instantly. "Neville stood up to Signora for me - I'm not going to abandon him."

"You're such a Gryffindor," Tam complained, "I thought you wanted to do well on your exam? That's the reason we're here, isn't it?"

"Well, yes," she agreed, feeling troubled, "but I'm not going to give up on a friend to make it happen - that's out of the question, Davies."

He held her gaze for a moment and she wondered if this was where their peculiar association would fall apart. She wouldn't be surprised: she didn't know of any incidents where a Slytherin and Gryffindor had worked successfully together. Eventually he sighed and said, "Well, just don't make it so obvious what you're doing to help him."

They were so absorbed in their work that Hermione didn't realise how quickly time had gone by, and she gave a cry of alarm when she saw that they had exceeded their time in the room by ten minutes.

"Look, whoever's booked out the room obviously isn't coming," Tam said, taking her bag back out of her hand and putting it on the floor next to his. "We might as well stay for a few more minutes and make sure you've definitely got this bourrée secure. It often comes up in the exam because of the tricky footwork and the changes of direction." After a moment's consideration, Hermione agreed because she had never managed to get all the way through the bourrée successfully until that night due to Neville's inability to remember the steps. And that was why, a little while later, Theodore Nott walked in on them and had barely stopped staring at Hermione since.

She looked up from the betony stems she was cutting to glance in his direction but she was surprised to see him away from his cauldron. She turned back to her own work but in her peripheral vision she noticed him walking near her table. He wasn't even looking at her but she still jumped and the knife bit deeply into her finger.

She let out a gasp that was a mixture of pain and surprise as blood quickly welled up and then trickled down her hand. Tears pricked at her eyes due to frustration, embarrassment, tiredness and pain, and she used a fistful of her robe to cover the wound and stem the flow. She approached Professor Snape reluctantly, knowing that he was likely to take points off her and lamenting the fact that healing spells weren't part of her repertoire yet, and so she missed the way Nott stared at the drops of blood she'd left behind at her workstation as though they were something earth-shattering.

A few days later, Hermione got that familiar tingle down her spine as she was trying to complete her arithmancy homework in the library. She looked up and was surprised to find Nott standing directly in front of her and not looking at her from a distance. He seemed to be deliberating something but her patience was limited due to the amount of work she had to do, so she said, "Can I help you, Nott?"

He half-nodded, opened his mouth and then paused to glance around. She did likewise but there was nobody else anywhere near them. She looked back at Nott expectantly. "I was hoping you could recommend a book," he said tentatively.

Hermione blinked in surprise: she hadn't been expecting that at all. "What about?"

He craned his head right round this time to check they were truly alone before giving his answer, and if she had thought she was taken aback by his previous words, that was nothing compared to how shocked she was when he said in a voice barely above a whisper, "About muggles."

* * *

A/N I am extremely eager to hear what you think!

Tam Davies, my OC, is a character partly borne out of my frustration with JK Rowling's way of writing all Slytherins: being a Slytherin = evil bigot. Why does being ambitious, resourceful or cunning automatically make you a bad person in the HP universe? It really bothers me!

For those of you that care, a bourrée is both a French folk dance and also a type of ballet move on the toes with lots of little steps. A polonaise is a dance of Polish origin which is a bit like a promenade around a hall. I forgot to say last chapter that a gavotte is a French folk dance. If you want to see what any of these look like then I know for a fact that the internet will be able to show you!

Anyway, I hope you liked the chapter. Hopefully we'll have another reasonably quick update.


	4. Third Year - Part Three

A/N: So, that wasn't quite the speedy update that I was hoping for. Sorry!

Thank you to all those who have supported this story.

* * *

Third Year - Part Three

Theo didn't know what Tam Davies expected of him. So he finds out that muggles and mudbloods aren't quite what he thought they were and, what, he's supposed to declare his new perspective in the Great Hall at dinner time and skip over to Granger and ask if she wants to be his friend? It was crazy.

After that conversation in the Common Room, Theo had tried to push Tam's words from his mind but Granger was much harder to ignore - all of a sudden she was everywhere he looked: breakfast, lunch, dinner, Potions, Care of Magical Creatures, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy and, of course, Ballet. It was incredibly distracting and he knew she was aware that he kept glancing in her direction, which was distinctly embarrassing. However, it wasn't until he saw those ruby droplets of blood by her cauldron that he realised he couldn't put it off any longer: he had to know the truth.

However, not prepared to stray too far from his comfort area he decided to raise the subject with Blaise first. "You know," he began tentatively, looking over at his friend as they sat next to each other at lunch. "Granger's blood wasn't brown when she cut herself in potions today."

Blaise barely reacted. "So?" he said lazily, his tone of voice contrasting with the rapid thudding of Theo's heart. "She's still a filthy mudblood whatever colour her insides are," he declared, revulsion on his normally suave face.

"Right, yeah," Theo replied quickly but his insides were squirming.

"The name comes from the fact that she's been born from lesser stock, Theo - muggles are as disgusting as the beasts that wallow in the dirt," Blaise told him. "They're vermin. My mother won't even be in the same room as one. If only we had the same opportunity here..."

Theo understood Blaise's line of thinking because he'd heard it all many times before, but his father had always insisted that although mudbloods might look like witches and wizards on the outside, it was in their blood that their inferiority would show. After all, blood was all that mattered to the old Pureblood families. How carefully those bloodlines had been preserved to ensure that they were kept untainted by muggles to produce witches and wizards of superior quality…

But, as far as he could tell, Granger's muggle blood _wasn't_ any different from his own noble and dynastic blood. And if Theo's father had lied to him or, indeed, been misled about that himself, then what else was Theo ignorant about?

It took him a few more days to gather up the courage to approach her. Thankfully, she took his request seriously and disappeared into the shelves for a minute, leaving him standing a little bit anxiously by her worktable before she returned with two medium sized tomes in her grasp. He took them from her wordlessly and stuffed them deep into his bag and found a deserted section of the library to read them without anyone seeing.

He didn't quite know what to make of what he found within. He'd never considered that what he read in an information book might not be factual, but what Granger had picked out for him was very different than the books his own father had given him on muggles. Was one set truthful and the other lies, or were they both biased in their own way. What the hell was he supposed to believe?

About a week later, Signor asked him to stay behind at the end of the lesson. Theo paused, alarm pulsing through his body as he waited for the other students to clear the room, some throwing curious glances over their shoulders at him as they left. Signor poured out some water and handed it to Theo who took it and sipped nervously. What did the ballet master want to talk to him about? Had he done something wrong?

"Something is troubling you," Signor stated. "You have not performed at your best lately. What is on your mind, Theodore?"

"Nothing, Signor," Theo lied quickly, his fingers grasped tightly around the glass of water. "I'm sorry that I haven't been meeting your expectations; I'll try harder next time."

Signor frowned at him. "Of course I respect your right to keep your matters to yourself but I would appreciate it if you did not lie to me." Theo felt a great weight drop into his stomach at his disappointed tone. Signor seemed to notice his quiet despair because his body language softened. "I remember what it was like at your age, trying to find who I was, where I fit in. I was fortunate enough to come from a loving, open family and my schooling was quite different to what you have here, I think. My wife was a Slytherin, you know, and I understand that those in your house form alliances rather than true friendships. And while I respect Severus Snape as an accomplished Potions Master, he does not come across as a Head of House that students would choose to confide in." If he wasn't so on edge because of the conversation, Theo probably would have laughed at the prospect of talking to Snape about his confused thoughts and feelings.

Signor put a hand on Theo's shoulder. "So, what I'm trying to say is that I am here if there's something you would like to talk about - I consider it my duty to look after the state of mind of my pupils as well as their posture." He smiled at Theo who could only stare back. Signor patted his shoulder and then turned away to prepare for the next class, leaving Theo to contemplate his words.

Slytherins didn't confide in each other - confessing any thoughts that were deeper than the norm left you extremely vulnerable to your ambitious housemates. Besides, with the exception of Tam Davies, Theo was pretty sure he knew that all other Slytherins viewed muggles and muggleborns as inferior, so what would be the point in discussing it with them? Signor was right about not feeling comfortable talking to his Head of House even though he wasn't sure where Snape stood on the issue. He didn't like Granger, that was obvious, but he'd never made any criticism of her blood status and Theo doubted that the muggle-loving Headmaster would employ someone who thought a minority of the students were disgusting. There were, in theory, other members of staff that Theo could turn to but he didn't trust or know them well enough to open up about his struggles. Not only that but he suspected that he already knew that their answers would be biased towards muggles - how could he trust that what they were telling him was true? The same would be true of any other students that he approached - not that many would stick around long enough if a Slytherin approached them for anything.

But what about signor Vittozzi? His wife had made it very clear that she wasn't impressed by muggleborns and if she really had been a Slytherin then Theo knew that extended beyond their supposed inability to dance magically. Signor, however, treated Granger the same as any other student. Would he have the balanced, unbiased opinion that Theo needed to hear? The ballet teacher had just intimated that he wanted Theo to trust him, hadn't he? And Theo was desperate for answers so he could find some sort of inner peace and stop being so damn distracted.

"Are muggleborns inferior to purebloods?" Theo asked suddenly, his heart pounding even harder than before.

Signor paused in his scrutiny of a piece of parchment and lowered it to look at Theo's rigid frame. "Does it matter?" he asked. "Whether muggleborns be inferior or equal: does it matter to you?"

"Well, _yes_," Theo replied instantly, surprised by the dance teacher's response.

"Why?"

"_Why_?" Theo repeated in surprised. "Shouldn't I want to know the truth?"

"You are in a privileged position due to your family name; choosing to believe one point of view is to your advantage, is it not?" Signor pointed out.

"I just want to know the truth," Theo insisted.

"And what will you do with the truth when you hear it?" he questioned.

"Do? Why would I have to do anything: isn't just knowing it enough?" Theo asked, beginning to sound desperate.

Signor Vittozzi studied him closely again. "It's not as simple as that for some, Theodore, and I think you understand that. You have seen for your own eyes that muggleborn witches and wizards can be more capable that their pureblooded counterparts when performing magic and it is _not_," he added quickly, "because of some silly story about them stealing magic from others. Do you not think that others would have figured out how to steal magic to make themselves more powerful if that was the case? No. They were born with magic just like you were and it is as much theirs as anyone else's. Many blood supremacists know that this is true and so they still seek to put themselves above muggleborns by claiming that muggles themselves are lesser creatures. Have you ever stepped into the muggle world before, Theodore?"

Theo shook his head mutely.

Signor smiled with a look of understanding. "I am fortunate enough to have travelled the world in my career with the company. I saw so many beautiful and incredible things and what I saw in the muggle world was just as impressive as anything magical - maybe even more so considering that we are advantaged by our abilities. Muggles can create buildings that reach as high as the clouds, they have built transport that lets you soar across the skies with the birds, they have sent muggles into the heavens to walk on the moon, they can swap your heart for a healthy one if it is failing and they understand how everything on earth is composed of materials that are smaller than we can see with our eyes. The muggle arts are just as sophisticated as ours and they are constantly pushing the boundaries of what art can be. I could tell you so much more but the only way you can comprehend muggles - and I know that it is not likely to be possible at present - is to see for yourself, Theodore. Muggles should be admired for what they can achieve without magic," he said earnestly but his expression became more serious and he held up a warning, "though, of course, with everything good there is the bad. Muggles are capable of terrible things, as are users of magic. All those capable of intelligent and independent thought can make good or bad choices. We both suffer under the curse of humanity."

Theo was focused so hard on what signor Vittozzi was saying that it left him little chance to reflect on how he felt.

"And so we shall come back to your original question: are muggleborns inferior to purebloods? Objectively, the evidence would say not, but that hasn't prevented the continuation of the belief amongst many pureblood families, has it? For some, they _believe it_ and therefore it is _true_ that they are superior to those associated with muggles and no evidence will convince them otherwise. For others, they will continue to believe it to be true until it no longer benefits them..."

It took Theo a few moments to realise that Signor was once again silently scrutinising him, possibly waiting for some sort of response. "I… I see," he murmured hesitantly, his head still trying to absorb all that Signor had told him.

The dance teacher's expression softened with a look of understanding and he laid a hand on Theo's shoulder. "You are growing up, Theodore," he stated kindly, his Italian accent sounding surprisingly thicker at the soft words. "Blind faith is for children. It is by questioning your beliefs, confirming the values important to you, finding your view of the world, that you become a man."

Theo couldn't repress a shiver despite the warmth of the studio and he looked at signor Vittozzi with a mild sense of despair. "But… but I don't know what I believe anymore; I don't know what to do!"

"Do? Why do you have to do anything?" Signor replied, echoing Theo's words back to him with the smallest hint of amusement. However, he quickly saw that the humour wasn't appreciated and squeezed Theo's shoulder with a more sympathetic expression on his face. "You cannot force an epiphany on your attitudes and beliefs, Theodore. It will take time to process your thoughts to a point where you are comfortable with what you believe. Any self-revelation that you do make need not require you to act like a completely different person. If you come to the conclusion that the differences in magical heritage don't matter to you, it doesn't require you to shout it aloud for everyone to hear - particularly given that you are a Slytherin. I would suggest that you follow the lead of Mister Davies: I believe you are aware of his views on blood."

Theo felt his cheeks flush and he briefly wondered what Tam Davies and Signor had said to each other about him. He nodded. "Davies told me," Theo admitted quietly.

"And you had no idea before he spoke to you?"

"No, I just assumed he believed the same as the rest of our house," Theo replied.

"Assumptions can be both a blessing and a curse," Signor said, "but I suggest you use them to your advantage just like Mister Davies does. I also advise you to speak to him: he will understand what you are thinking more than I."

That significant conversation with Signor had taken place a week ago and Theo had yet to pluck up the courage to speak to Tam Davies.

It had taken a few days for Theo to mull over everything that he'd found out from the different sources, but he surprised himself with how quickly he accepted that not only was his previous understanding of Pureblood supremacy embarrassingly naïve, but also that he felt more and more certain that he was prepared to reject the notion altogether. Either it was true or it wasn't; he couldn't tolerate the idea of believing muggleborns to be inferior just because it suited him. He still needed to find out more about muggles, of course, to have a more informed opinion on them (though when he'd get the time to do so, he didn't know) but his gut told him that they weren't the disgusting, primitive vermin he'd been brought up to believe they were.

Signor may have stated that Theo need not _do _anything in regards to his newfound beliefs but Theo felt like Davies expected something of him whenever their eyes met in the Common Room, in the dance corridor or at the Slytherin table during mealtimes. Theo was careful to keep his gaze neutral whenever this happened so as not to give anything away to the older student. Theo may have found out the truth about blood supremacy but he didn't appreciate the way Davies had just bombarded him with it. If Tam really wanted to know what Theo was thinking, he'd just have to bloody well ask him.

Two days later, that was exactly what Davies did.

There was a strange sense of events repeating themselves as Tam took a seat at the same table Theo had been working at during their last conversation, causing Theo to look up from his potions essay.

"You asked Granger for a book about muggles," Davies stated curiously in place of a more traditional greeting.

Theo glanced around the Common Room but, just like last time, no one appeared to be paying them the slightest bit of attention. "What of it?" Theo muttered quietly, returning his attention to his essay.

The quill was suddenly plucked out of his hands as Davies muttered exasperatedly, "Don't be a little shit, Nott. This isn't a game."

Theo glared at him - the shock and awe from their last conversation having very much worn off. "You think I don't know that?" he snapped. "_I'm_ the one that had my world wrenched out from underneath my feet."

Davies' face softened. "So, you've realised the truth, have you?" he mused, appraising Theo once again. He sighed when he saw the truth in Theo's taut expression, and he looked a little abashed. "Look, I didn't mean…" he began, running a hand through his hair as Theo waited for him to spit out whatever it was he wanted to say. "I didn't know how you'd react; what conclusion you'd reach…" he said and Theo realised that despite his previous protestations, Tam had been worried that Theo would make things difficult for him. "I came at you too strong - both last time and tonight," Davies continued. "It was pretty tactless and impulsive of me. Merlin, I've practically been a Gryffindor about all of this," he muttered and then did something else very un-Slytherin, "I apologise, Nott."

Theo held his gaze. He was still somewhat irritated with the way Davies had come in and shoved his nose into Theo's values but he recognised the gesture Tam was making with what appeared to be a sincere apology. Theo had always been a solitary figure but the last few days had left him feeling completely isolated from his Slytherin peers, knowing that they no longer shared a core belief. Given Davies' popularity and the career he was likely to have, it made sense for Theo to try and find an ally in him even without their shared views on blood. Theo wasn't sure it would ever come up but he even suspected that Davies would be happy to _discuss_ his thoughts on blood and muggles with Theo - another un-Slytherin trait.

He held his hand out to Davies and said, "Theo," to imply that the apology had been accepted and it was beneficial to them both to start their acquaintance again.

Davies looked at his hand for a couple of seconds and then returned Theo's gaze with understanding in his eyes and a smirk that was an expression much more befitting to a Slytherin. "Tam," he said, shaking Theo's hand firmly.

When their hands broke away, Tam gave him a nod and then stood to leave. "See you around, Theo," he said, beginning to turn away but then he paused and looked back. "I'm having another rehearsal with Granger tomorrow evening. You should come - I'm far too tall to partner her in the paired dances. I could give you some tips if you want - I'd like to see you do well in your exam. Six-thirty in Room Three."

Tam then nonchalantly walked off without a backwards glance and Theo strongly suspected that he did so intentionally. In fact, Theo wondered whether Tam's whole reason for initiating the conversation had been to invite Theo to the practice. Thinking about Tam's motives proved suitably distracting from what he'd actually proposed but when Theo allowed himself to think about it, his stomach wavered nervously.

_Dancing with Hermione Granger_.

Surely, it was out of the question. It wasn't that he found her particularly disgusting anymore (though it wasn't a feeling that he could instantly overturn) but he was wary about getting to know her better. It was one thing for Theo to align himself with the most popular student in the school, but he had no desire to get better acquainted with Granger. His nerves quivered at that thought because he knew that wasn't entirely true: he'd become distinctly drawn to her since the beginning of term because she'd contradicted everything he'd been taught about mudbloods, and apparently he had a perverse inclination to find out about something his father had warned him to keep away from. With his father's reasoning now null and void, the main reason to avoid Hermione Granger was his fear of his house ostracising him if they ever found out. This wasn't an inconsequential worry. Tam might claim to be unconcerned (even though Theo suspected a lot of that was bravado) but Davies was the most popular member of Slytherin. Theo held no such sway over the rest of his house and if they found out that he'd willingly spent time dancing with Granger (let alone that he thought Pureblood supremacy was crap) they'd make him regret it for years. Slytherins weren't known for possessing a forgiving nature… Not only that but the girl in question seemed in the habit of attracting trouble. Tam might argue that it only made her more interesting but Theo quite liked his life to be drama-free.

But… he couldn't deny that he was _intrigued_ by the notion. It was only one rehearsal session after all. More than likely, they would find that they were too different and practising together was utterly unproductive. At least if he went he wouldn't lose his new alliance with Tam.

Theo worried over his decision all night and into the next day. As six-thirty came closer, his already diminished levels of concentration declined even further. He retreated to his dormitory as the rest of the third-year Slytherins went to dinner and stared at his neatly folded dancewear. Before he could change his mind, he took off his school robes and pulled on his dance clothes and hurried up to the dance corridor, his heart pounding.

Tam and Granger were just about to enter the rehearsal room as he arrived, and he quickly tried to wipe away any evidence of his exertion and schooled his face into a casual expression before they noticed him. His footsteps gave away his presence and Tam looked over his shoulder at the noise, his face breaking into a genuine smile, which took Theo a little by surprise. Unsurprisingly, Granger's expression was much more guarded. She chewed on her lip as he approached before moving into the room and out of sight without a word.

Theo paused at her actions and looked uncertainly at Tam, who shrugged. "She's not sold on the notion of you being a decent human being yet," he explained with a small smirk. "Just give her time to get used to you."

He motioned for Theo to enter the room and he did so, feeling far more nervous than he'd anticipated: this felt like just as big a moment for him as it probably did for her, perhaps even more so. She'd already danced with Tam but this was brand new territory for him.

Granger avoided his eye as they warmed up, which was fine by him as it was the first time Theo had danced in front of Tam and he wanted to impress the older student with his technique. It was actually quite calming to go over the exercises that he was so familiar with and he was buoyed by Tam's appreciative comments and minimal critiques.

"Signor was right about you," Tam said to Theo as they removed the balancing charm after their final barre exercise. "You _are_ good - at barre, at least. Let's try some of the paired dances; see how you two get on together."

Theo and Granger locked gazes for the first time in the lesson and the significance of what he was there to do quickly rushed back at him. Her big brown eyes felt like they were piercing into his very soul, trying to find his worth.

"How about we start with the first minuet?" Tam suggested evenly, obviously sensing the tension in the room. The first minuet was the dance they had been taught at the very start of the year because it was easiest and didn't require other pairs to be performed.

Granger had continued to pin Theo down with her intense gaze but she broke it after a deep breath and turned to Tam with a nod. "Alright," she agreed, the first words Theo had heard her say all evening.

Davies went to sort out the music and Granger turned back to Theo. She still looked a little apprehensive but there was also a hint of a challenge in the upwards tilt of her chin, just like when he'd walked in on her the last time - as though she was daring him to prove that he wasn't like all the other Slytherins; daring him to touch her.

Theo held her gaze as he forced himself to take a step towards her, and then another, until he was alongside her. They both glanced down at their hands; so close but not quite touching, Theo's heart was pounding so hard that he could hear the thudding echoing in his brain. The hand position in the minuet required the woman's to rest lightly on the man's as he delicately held her fingers at chest height slightly in front of them. It was considered impolite for the man to just grab the fingers of the lady he was dancing with so Theo raised his hand into position and waited for her to place hers on top, his other hand slotting into place on the juncture of his hip. Theo attempted to look straight ahead of him but he was extremely aware of Granger standing so close to him that he could hear her breathing, and his waiting hand was still in his eyeline. He sensed and then saw her fingers appear above his hand. She hesitated for a moment and then lowered her hand onto his.

He turned his head sharply at the contact and she stiffened next to him as he stared at their hands.

"Surprised that my touch isn't as disgusting as you thought?" she asked him sharply and he looked up to see her eyes narrowed at him, her jaw tight.

"They're warm," he told her, a hint of surprise in his tone as he closed his fingers around hers more securely. "Daphne's are always cold." He had no real complaints about Daphne Greengrass being his usual partner for she was an intelligent and competent dancer. He was so used to the coolness of her fingers that he never even noticed it when they danced anymore, but the contrast with Granger's had taken him by surprise. He was relieved to find that nothing about her touch repulsed him because although he'd told himself that he no longer believed muggleborns to be lesser than him, he'd been worried that an unconscious part of him still thought it was true. She was much warmer than Daphne and her skin wasn't quite as soft, but apart from that it felt no different.

Granger briefly glanced away, her cheeks turning pink and she seemed a little abashed. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, still not meeting his eye. "I shouldn't presume to know you like that. After all, I never would have guessed you'd ask me for that book or want to rehearse with me... I'm sorry for judging you, Nott."

The music of the minuet started before Theo had the chance to respond and he turned his attention to performing the steps correctly, starting with the opening bow and curtsey sequence. He released Granger's fingers and bent forwards into the required elaborate bow as she dipped into a deep curtsey but they had only just regained their starting positions when Tam stopped the music.

Theo looked over at him in surprise. "I don't think I've ever seen a pair of such stiff dancers - you both look terrified of each other," Tam said with a frown. He walked over to them both. "Look, I get it," he said softly, laying a reassuring hand on their outer shoulders. "I know exactly who you both are and so the significance of this rehearsal isn't lost on me. There's going to be mistrust but I'm pretty confident in saying that everyone who's in this room is here because they want to be, right?" Theo and Granger looked at each other and then back to Tam and nodded. "Good. Let's try the opening again and maybe this time you could make it more obvious through your faces and bodies that you actually like to dance."

They made it all the way through the minuet that time but Theo could tell without having to hear it from Tam that they were still too stiff and disjointed in their movements. Tam suggested that the first minuet was too easy which gave them time to think of the situation rather than the steps, and so he moved them onto the polka next.

The polka was a completely different type of dance both in terms of tempo and hold. He'd merely been alongside Granger in the minuet and they broke contact through most of the dance, but the polka required them to face each other and he had to put his hand on her back. It was awkward to be so close to her and he found it more comfortable to look over her shoulder than at her face. However, Tam's plan of getting them to lose their awkwardness via the polka worked very quickly because the dance was so quick and technical with the footwork that Theo soon forgot who he was dancing with and treated Granger the same way he did Daphne.

They took a quick break after successfully performing the polka through three times without any mistakes and Theo found himself lamenting the fact that the rehearsal would soon be over. Tam was a good instructor and Hermione was a perfectly adequate dancer, much better than he was expecting if he were honest, but the reason Theo was enjoying the dance session so much was because after weeks of uncertainty, he finally felt that he could relax and be himself: he was doing something that he loved with people who knew about his newfound understanding of blood.

He felt free.

* * *

A/N Let me know what you think!

Red


	5. Third Year - Part Four

A/N: Hi! Thanks for all the support of this fic.

* * *

Third Year - Part Four

Going into her third year at Hogwarts, Hermione knew that she was going to have an astonishing secret: Professor McGonagall had explained before the summer holidays that the only way she would be able to attend all of her desired classes was through _unusual_ means. She didn't like keeping the time-turner a secret from Harry and Ron but she had promised the Deputy Headmistress that she wouldn't tell them, and Hermione wasn't going to forsake that solemn vow and let down her Head of House.

She was roughly at the halfway point of Third Year and she had unexpectedly accumulated two more startling secrets. Her realisation that Professor Lupin was a werewolf had clicked into place in her mind so suddenly when performing her homework on the creatures, that she had gasped. After confirming that the DADA professor's illnesses always took place during the full moon and that Professor Lupin's boggart was, in fact, the full moon and not a crystal ball like everyone had assumed, the secret gnawed away at Hermione's stomach. She severely debated telling someone - perhaps a member of staff - but then she realised that Professor Dumbledore surely already knew and apparently he trusted that it was safe for Professor Lupin to teach them. Hermione watched her Defence professor closely for the next few weeks and she could find no fault in his character nor (possibly more importantly in her opinion) in his ability to teach his subject, and so she decided to keep Professor Lupin's secret to herself. She just hoped that she would have no reason to regret that decision.

Her third secret wasn't really as astonishing as possessing a device that could turn back time or a werewolf for a teacher, but it was surprising in its own way: there were two members of Slytherin House that she could _almost_ describe as being her 'friend'.

Hermione found Tam Davies so unlike every other Slytherin she'd ever seen that, in truth, it was more the age difference and his overall popularity that made their developing friendship so unlikely. Tam had laughed when she'd made an offhand comment about how unsuited he was to his house. "I might not extol the virtues of pureblood supremacy but I'm no less cunning or ambitious, Granger," he told her with a trace of a smirk that was more befitting of those of his house. "My sole focus is earning a spot at a major magical dance company when I graduate from Hogwarts, and I'm not about to let anything stand in my way." He shook his head ruefully. "It's a shame that my house has such a dark history because it completely overshadows the positive characteristics of Slytherins - yes, Granger, there _are_ good things about us," he added with a faux sneer at the sceptical look on her face. He pondered her for a moment. "You know, while you are _obviously_ a Gryffindor," he said with a slight roll of his eyes, "I reckon there are a few Slytherin traits within you too."

Hermione scoffed at that. "Really?" she asked disbelievingly.

"You're determined, aren't you?" Tam explained.

Hermione considered it. "To a point," she allowed after a few moments of reflection. She was determined but she wasn't as interested in self-preservation as Slytherins were.

"And don't tell me you're not ambitious with all the studying you do," he added. "It brought you to me, didn't it: showing a willingness to form alliances to get where you want to go."

"In Gryffindor we call those friendships," Hermione answered wryly. "And you were the one that approached me first, remember? I still don't see what you get out of helping me."

Tam let out a slight laugh and held up a hand. "Ease back on your suspicions, Granger, I have no sinister or manipulative plans for you. I already told you that I want to spend my time on dance in whatever form it takes. I don't particularly seek anything in return for my coaching so perhaps this _is_ more like a friendship than a traditional Slytherin alliance."

While there might be a tentative label of friendship with Tam, Hermione was less sure where she stood with Nott. He was only marginally more talkative than he had been before their first private rehearsal together a couple of weeks ago, which meant that Hermione was having to observe him very closely in an attempt to figure out his thoughts and motivation. She was extremely keen to ask him questions because he had undoubtedly been through some sort of personal change of attitude to be dancing with and _touching _her, but she forced herself not to pry because she didn't want to scare him away with her intense inquisitiveness.

She hadn't wanted to give him a chance when Tam had suggested Nott rehearse with them, and she would have refused had he not approached her beforehand with a baffling, but seemingly genuine, desire to find out about muggles. Hermione was incredibly apprehensive at the start of the rehearsal because she'd had too many experiences of the Slytherins in her year being deeply unpleasant towards her. Nott had never actually said anything to her in the past but he had laughed along with all of Malfoy and Parkinson's comments, and the expression on his face had clearly shown that he thought she was far beneath him. And, although his attitude had clearly changed once he'd walked in on her practice with Tam, she couldn't shake off the feeling (however ridiculous) that Nott was going to hurt her in some way.

She spent the first half of their practice trying to ignore Nott's presence but that wasn't particularly easy with Tam giving Nott most of his attention, but Davies had never seen his fellow Slytherin dance before and Hermione tried to tune out the sound of his voice whenever he complimented Nott's ability. Hermione already knew that Nott was good because she heard the praise every week from the Vittozzis and she'd discreetly sneaked a few glances his way during classes when he'd started acting differently towards her, but hearing Tam praise him made her feel even more on edge.

When the time came for them to practise the paired dances, Hermione's heart was beating far more quickly in her chest than she would like as her anxiety levels rose, but she tried to portray that she was calm. However, seeing that Nott looked almost as tense and apprehensive as she felt helped her to give the Slytherin a chance. Her heart leapt up to her mouth when he reacted so quickly to her touch, but he seemed genuine in saying that the warmth of her hand took him by surprise. She'd glanced away from him and she saw that Tam was watching them closely in the mirror. Tam gave the slightest inclination of his head in Nott's direction and Hermione understood what he was trying to tell her. Tam believed Nott's change of heart was genuine. If that was true, Hermione could see how this was a very significant moment for Nott and she felt guilty for being unwilling to allow him a chance to redeem himself for his previous behaviour.

The first dance was awkward and stilted but when Tam moved them on to faster, more intricate dances, Hermione soon found the dance steps flowing more smoothly between them and she soon forgot that she had been nervous of dancing with Nott at all. He was much more competent than Neville and she found she didn't have to stretch as much as she did to accommodate Tam's superior height. There were a few niggles in each dance that they had to work on but by the end of the rehearsal, Hermione felt that she'd performed those paired dances better than she ever had before. She didn't know Nott well enough to state confidently how he felt about their practice and his face didn't alter much from its typical guarded or haughty expression, but there were moments in the polka and bourrée when he'd caught her eye and those serious orbs were suddenly bright and more expressive than she'd ever witnessed before. It had almost thrown her off balance. However, the reserved air was quickly back in place straight after and, if it hadn't happened more than once, she would have thought she'd imagined it.

Outside of their private rehearsing, Nott completely ignored her. Hermione didn't mind. She was far too busy attending her many classes and completing all her homework; she didn't have time for any drama that was caused by her 'alliance' with a Slytherin. She could also appreciate that while Tam's level of popularity could handle an association with her, Nott would face a huge amount of criticism from his house for willingly dancing with her. She doubted that the opinions of the Gryffindors would be much more favourable but she could hardly blame them if that turned out to be the case because she had been just as judgemental when presented with Nott's altered behaviour. Harry and Ron still weren't speaking to her and she could only imagine how badly they'd react to her spending time with Slytherins. _She_ might have been willing to give Tam and Nott a chance but she doubted that Harry would, and Ron certainly wouldn't. So, although it gave her a small thrill to know that she had two secret almost-friends, if she actually allowed herself any time away from her workload to think on it, it just reminded her how isolated she really was. Luckily, her busy schedule didn't really leave any time for socialising and, if she were honest with herself, she could barely spare the time for her weekly extra sessions with Tam and Nott. However, during that hour a week she could forget about the extra strains in her life (no huge piles of homework, no friends that had shunned her, no escaped convicts trying to kill her best friend, no Signora belittling her efforts, no Neville to have to compensate for) and she could just enjoy dancing with people who were like-minded. It was a small sanctuary for her.

"Signor has suggested that I teach you the Highland reel," Tam told them at their next practice. He looked eager but a quick glance at Nott told Hermione that he was as nonplussed about the reel as she was. "It's not really taught any more because if the dancers aren't in good enough shape then it looks awful - it's very physically demanding," Tam explained. "You two both got to the end of the jumps sequence in your first class so Signor reckons you've got the stamina." Hermione opened her mouth to ask a question but Tam held his hand up to stop her. "The examiners don't ever ask to see it but the Vittozzis can put you forward to show it to them if you're good enough. It can get you a few bonus marks so it's worth trying."

Hermione nodded, convinced by Tam's justification for the added effort it would take to learn an extra dance even though she was particularly exhausted that day. Tam tried to move around which day of the week their practice was on because both she and Nott still preferred for it to be a secret from the other students, and she had already done two extra hours that day with her time-turner and stayed up late the previous night to finish her homework on time. She also strongly suspected that she had the beginnings of a cold because her limbs ached more than normal, her throat was a little dry and her sinuses throbbed painfully whenever she bent her head forwards. The prospect of learning a supposedly-physical new dance worried her a little but she hoped that Tam had been over-exaggerating its difficulty.

He had not.

The reel seemed to consist almost exclusively of leaps and springs from foot to foot that very quickly sapped away at Hermione's energy and left her legs burning. The only respite came when Hermione and Nott laid their arms forwards across each other's waist and turned around each other for a few counts.

"OK, that's the first part," Tam told them as they sucked in huge lungfuls of air, Hermione bent double as she lethargically massaged the backs of her calves.

"How much more is there?" gasped Nott, wiping a hand across his brow.

"There are eight parts in total," Tam admitted and Hermione let out a strangled gasp as she looked up at him dismay.

"_Eight?_" she repeated.

"I told you it was a hard dance," Tam replied with only a hint of sympathy. "You haven't even covered thirty seconds of the choreography yet."

Hermione stared at him in disbelief as exhaustion and despair bubbled up inside her. She held a hand up to cover her eyes as tears started to sting and blur her vision. She couldn't bear for either of the Slytherins to see her moment of weakness and she forced herself to calm down - becoming emotional was only going to make her more tired anyway.

The second part of the reel was just as brutal as the first but contained slightly more intricate footwork that Hermione struggled to get right. Not only that but her arms sooned matched the aching of her legs after prolonged periods of holding them high above her head.

"You're doing really well," Tam told them encouragingly. "I said it's a killer, didn't I? Let's try it with the music a couple of times and then we'll call it a day." Hermione tried not to look too relieved at his words and a picture of all the work she still had to complete loomed in the back of her mind. She attempted to push it away, not wanting it to intrude on her precious dance time.

They soon found that the music was a fair bit faster than they had been rehearsing to and they struggled to keep the jumps and springs in time. Hermione realised a split second after it happened that she had turned to face the wrong diagonal but it was too late to stop Nott's toes making sharp contact with the top of her foot as he kicked it out like the jump dictated him to. Hermione gasped at the impact and wrapped her hand around her injured foot to try and contain the pain as she attempted to balance on one leg.

The music stopped abruptly and Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, highly embarrassed by her mistake and reluctant to look at either of the Slytherins in her humiliation. A hand reached out to steady her and she heard Tam ask, "How bad is it, Granger?"

She grimaced and then concentrated on keeping any wobbles out of her voice. "It hurts but I don't think it's broken."

"I'll run a diagnostic spell just to make sure," Tam replied. Hermione cracked open her eyes and watched him move her fingers off her foot before tapping the injured area three times and muttering an incantation under his breath. Her skin glowed brown for a moment and then faded. "You're right - no break," he confirmed, "but it'll bruise badly. There's always some salve in the store cupboard. I'll go grab some. Hang on."

Tam gave her a reassuring tap on her calf and then walked out of the room. Through the pain, Hermione suddenly became aware that she had her arm wrapped over the back of Nott's neck to steady herself and his hand was on her lower back. Even though they had now danced closely together a few times, it felt very intimate. In her attempt to put distance between them, she lost her balance and would've landed rather inelegantly on her bottom had Nott's hands not caught her. He lowered her gently to the ground, even more humiliated and still wanting to cry as her cheeks flamed red. She buried her face in her hands but then became aware of him sitting next to her.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, making her look over at him in surprise.

"Don't be ridiculous - I'm the one that turned the wrong way," she pointed out. "It's my fault I got hurt, not yours."

His lips twitched sideways as he briefly showed a troubled expression. "No, not about that - although I still feel bad for hurting you - but I was apologising for…" He struggled to find the words and then motioned his hand over his shoulder. "...For the past, I suppose." At Hermione's confused expression he explained, "Before, you apologised for judging me even though a few weeks ago your assessment would have been truthful. The view I had of you and those like you, however, was inaccurate for years. I'm sorry that I judged you."

Hermione tried not to gape at him, more than a little shocked how the world had turned on its head: her two best friends were no longer speaking to her and here she was, sat on the floor, with a Slytherin who was making a mature apology the likes of which she wasn't sure Ron nor Harry were even capable of. To her shame, it all became too much and tears fell from her eyes before she could stop them. A sob escaped her chest, immediately followed by another, as all the exhaustion, stress and pain bubbled up from where she'd been repressing it.

Nott looked almost comically terrified at her reaction. "Granger, I didn't - I don't - I…"

Hermione shook her head and waved her hand at him. "It's not you," she reassured him, her voice thick with emotion. "It's a lot of things." He didn't look at all reassured.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked tightly.

Hermione wiped her eyes, her breaths still hitching unevenly in her throat. "My bag - there's a handkerchief in it."

Nott looked only too pleased to be given a reason to move away from her and he hurried over to where she'd placed her belongings. He returned at once, carefully depositing her bag in front of her. Desperate as she was to compose herself, Hermione sorted through the contents of her bag agitatedly and snatched the handkerchief out. In her haste, she failed to notice that something else had been partly dislodged from the bag until she had momentarily lowered the soft blue cotton from her eyes in order to blow her nose. The sight of the time-turner dangling over the side of her satchel caused her heart to momentarily freeze in alarm, but then, even more worryingly, she saw that Nott's attention had been caught by the device and his fingers were reaching out to touch it.

"No!" she said sharply. Nott looked over at her, evidently surprised by her tone, but his fingers stayed merely resting against the hourglass. "It- it used to belong to my grandmother," she lied quickly. "It's very delicate."

Nott held her gaze for a few moments. She tried not to squirm at the intensity of it but she could feel her cheeks flooding with colour once again. Could he tell she was lying? Probably. She'd never been all that good at it and she knew that neither her lie nor the execution of it had been very convincing.

Nott's eyes dropped back to the time-turner and he gently lifted his fingers away from the device. "Forgive me," he apologised politely, but his eyes were fixed on the talisman.

Thankfully, the sound of the door opening broke Nott's concentration as he glanced over to where Tam was jogging in with a glass jar clutched in his hand. With Nott looking elsewhere, Hermione took the opportunity to carefully tuck the time-turner out of sight again.

* * *

Hermione looked down at the chapter she'd been asked to study for her arithmancy homework and fought very hard to resist the urge to burst into tears. This couldn't be the next part of their course, surely? The formulas involved were far beyond what they had covered so far. She looked down at the note she'd made on her parchment of the page number she needed to read from, and checked that it matched with the book. It did. Her heart sank and a tear slipped from her eyes as an increasingly familiar sense of being overwhelmed threatened to swallow her up.

She sniffed loudly and brushed the tear away. There were still a few minutes until the library would close. If she was lucky, she'd find someone from her arithmancy class between the shelves so she could check that she had copied down the correct page number and she therefore wouldn't waste her time reading and trying to understand something she didn't have to. She didn't have arithmancy tomorrow but she'd have little time in the evening to complete her homework when she had ballet class and other work to do too. She quickly tidied her belongings away and held the books that didn't fit into her bag against her chest as she glanced around for any familiar faces from arithmancy.

Unfortunately, row after row proved disappointing. The library was normally full of the Ravenclaws from her year but it was typical that when she needed to talk to one of them there wouldn't be any in sight. Another tear escaped and quickly trickled down her cheek. With a feeling of inevitable disappointment, she tried the tables at the rear of the library and came across a familiar head of dark hair.

"Nott," she whispered eagerly and hurried over to him. He glanced up at her with an expression of faint surprise and put down his quill as she approached. She could see him taking in her dishevelled appearance but she was too relieved to have found a fellow arithmancy student to care about how scruffy she looked. "Can you remember what page number Professor Vector wanted us to read from? The figure I copied down takes me near the end of the book and I'm sure she can't possibly want us to study the material back there yet." Her voice sounded a little hysterical and she cleared her throat in an attempt to get herself back under control. It had been just over a week since she'd broken down in front of him in their ballet session and she had no intention of repeating that embarrassing experience.

Nott reached for a sheet of parchment under the one he was working on. "Page two hundred and seventy-eight," he told her and Hermione's shoulders sagged in relief.

"I had _seven_ hundred and seventy-eight," she explained, depositing the books in her hands on the table so she could retrieve the arithmancy tome from within her bag. She flicked through the pages until she came to the right section and then skimmed through it. It was longer than she'd hoped for but at least she should be able to understand it. With a sigh, she attempted to stuff the book back into her satchel a little too forcefully and the weight from her shoulder suddenly disappeared as her bag split open and the contents spilled onto the floor. Letting loose a soft cry of despair, Hermione ducked down to rectify the damage that had been done to her possessions. The first few books she picked up were fine but she soon saw that one of her ink pots had smashed, soaking the parchment closest to it and staining a few pages in a couple of her set texts. "Oh no," she moaned wearily, unable to believe her misfortune.

"Here, allow me," she heard Nott say and an ink-splattered book was suddenly plucked out of her hand.

"Thank you," she murmured, ducking her head to discreetly wipe away the tears that once again threatened to fall. "I, er, think there's a charm that we could use that removes liquids but I don't remember what it is," she told him, her voice shaking with repressed emotion.

"Tergeo," Nott told her and then demonstrated the charm, siphoning off the wet ink from the pages of her transfiguration textbook.

"Oh," she said, momentarily distracted by the sight of the new spell at work. "Will that work on my homework too?" she asked, glancing down to the ink-drenched parchment that she'd intended on handing in during tomorrow's Ancient Runes lesson.

"It'll take off the wet ink but it might take some of the dry too," he replied, watching her a little warily.

Hermione sighed and nodded. "Could you have a go for me? I'll have to rewrite it anyway but the more I can see the easier it'll be."

"Here," Nott said, pointing his wand at the wet pieces of parchment and repeating the incantation. The glistening black ink disappeared quickly and, as far as Hermione could see, only a few of her written words were erased along with it. "I can teach you if you want," Nott offered after Hermione thanked him. "There's no wand action involved but the pronunciation needs to be precise."

She managed to remove a large ink stain from the floor on her third attempt and then promptly sneezed four times in a row, each one becoming louder and higher in pitch.

Nott frowned at her as she retrieved a clean tissue from her pocket "I see you're still unwell. Did you not take a remedy from Madam Pomfrey?"

"I did," Hermione replied, stuffing the tissue deep into her pocket again. "I took three. I'm not sure if this is a new cold or just the same one lingering on."

Nott was still looking at her with a disapproving expression. "I'm not particularly surprised. You need to give yourself a break - you work too hard."

Hermione forced herself to smile weakly. "I'm fine," she told him. "Everyone gets a little run down this time of year."

"But when they take something like Pepper-Up potion they get better," Nott pointed out. "If you don't start taking better care of yourself, you're going to crack."

Hermione shook her head, a little bemused to even be having this conversation with the Slytherin. "I've got too much to do, I haven't got time to relax."

Nott's eyes dropped temporarily to her neck. "Actually, I'd say time is something you _do_ have."

Hermione stared at him, frozen in place by the meaning behind his words. "I don't know what you mean," she said eventually in a forcefully confused voice as she averted her attention to repairing her split bag.

"I was referring to your time-turner," Nott replied calmly.

Hermione accidentally burnt a hole in her bag at the abruptness of his words and she quickly looked around in case anyone had overheard. Fortunately, they were completely alone.

"I - " she began, rapidly trying to think of some plausible excuse but Nott interrupted.

"Don't bother trying to deny it, Granger. I didn't know what it was when I saw it but I knew by the runes that it didn't come from your muggle family. It took a little bit of research but I know what I saw now," Nott stated but Hermione was still scrambling to rectify the situation. He must have noticed the panic on her face because he said, "Look, I'm not going to tell anyone. I wasn't going to say anything to you but you appear to be stubbornly ignoring the negative effect it's having on your health."

"I'm _fine_," she insisted hotly. "It's just a persistent cold."

"It doesn't take a genius to figure out that you're using the time-turner to take more classes so, not only are you actually living longer days by repeating those hours again to attend the lessons, you have much more homework than everyone else and no extra time to complete it all."

"I manage," she said tightly but she could feel her emotions rising upwards again.

"The very fact that you haven't responded to the remedies shows that your body is telling you otherwise," Nott argued. "Something needs to change - even if it's just redoing part of your Saturday afternoon so you can go and sleep in your dormitory once in a while."

Hermione gaped at him. "I-I couldn't possibly!" she spluttered. "It's not a toy, Nott. I'm to use it for my studies only."

"Well, your studies seem to have driven you to the brink of a breakdown," he said calmly. "If you're not going to take some hours for yourself then I recommend you drop something before you really do crack from the exhaustion."

Hermione was so shocked by his line of thinking that she actually leaned away from him. "Drop something?" she repeated, sounding almost scandalised. "I can't just _drop_ one of my subjects."

"If you're taking every elective there is, then of course you can," Nott replied and then narrowed his eyes. "You're _not_ taking all of them, are you?" Hermione pursed her lips together and Nott's eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline. "Granger, _why, in Salazar's name_, are you taking Muggle Studies?!"

Hermione's cheeks flushed at his disbelieving tone. "It's very interesting to hear about them from a magical perspective. It gives me an insight into the viewpoint of witches and wizards from a purely magical background."

Nott didn't look convinced. "It's a waste of your time and energy, Granger."

"No, what would be a waste is me quitting now when I've put the time and effort in for half a year," she argued. "I can't just walk away with nothing."

"What about your other subjects: do you enjoy all of them?" he questioned.

"I - " she began and then balked.

He noticed at once. "Which one don't you like - Care of Magical Creatures?"

"I would _never_ drop Care of Magical Creatures," she vowed passionately.

"Why? It's terrible. After Draco nearly got killed, we spent an entire term tending to _flobberworms_, Granger. I've barely learnt a thing in that class that I couldn't have just read in a book," Nott declared, suddenly sounding more like a Slytherin than she'd ever heard before - not that he'd spoken to her very much until now.

"Professor Hagrid is my friend," she told him coldly.

He watched her carefully for a moment and then said, "That doesn't qualify him as being a competent teacher." Hermione balled her hands up into fists, too worked up to feel anything but a heartfelt defence of Hagrid. Nott seemed to notice though because he continued, "So I guess you aren't fond of Divination."

Hermione simply made a noncommittal noise in her throat and shrugged her shoulders. "It all seems very imprecise to me," she replied diplomatically.

"From what I've heard, you either have the gift for Divination or you don't," Nott told her. "And if you _don't_ then there's not much point studying it, is there?"

Hermione set her jaw stubbornly. "I'm not a quitter."

Nott's eyes narrowed on her once again but she refused to look away. "No. I suspect that's the Gryffindor in you."

She could tell that he thought that she was being ridiculous and the possibility that he might be right, that she was making emotional decisions instead of rational ones, was something she refused to consider in case it made her even more upset.

"Well, you know what I think your two options are," he told her, handing back the book he'd been holding onto for no apparent reason. "Either you free up your school schedule or you find a way to give yourself more time to catch up on some rest, and until you make a choice, I won't be taking part in an extra dance session with you and Davies. I don't see the benefit for either of us in rehearsing with you in your current state." He muttered a charm and flicked his wand at his belongings so that they tidied themselves neatly into his bag, before giving her a curt nod and walking away without another word, leaving Hermione to gape at his retreating figure.

* * *

A/N Hope you enjoyed the chapter - let me know what you thought. I think one qualifies as a bit of a slow-burner, right?

Anyway, the holiday season is upon us! Is anyone seeing any festive ballets? No Nutcracker for me this year (I saw it at the Royal Opera House last year and Les Patineurs a couple of weeks later!) but I've got the music and DVDs to see me through! I've also got Coppelia lined up in the New Year (I realise that it's not particularly festive but I'm still very much looking forward to it!)

Red


	6. Third Year - Part Five

A/N Hello everyone! Thank you for your continued support.

* * *

Third Year - Part Five

Professor Snape regarded Theo sharply as he took in his request. Theo made sure to meet his gaze: he was breaking no rules in what he'd asked for and he had made this particular request before, but he still needed the permission of his Head of House. Snape seemed to come to the conclusion that it was nothing more than an innocent plea because his features became indifferent. "Just don't go and get yourself drowned or eaten by the giant squid - I don't wish to deal with the endless parchment your death would involve."

Theo nodded, successfully hiding how pleased he was. "Thank you, Professor."

Snape made a dismissive gesture with his hand and Theo walked away at a controlled pace.

It was easy to find Granger in the library because he had come to know her preferred study tables well over the last few weeks. There was, as ever, a large pile of books that partially hid her from view but there was no mistaking that bushy brown hair.

He pulled out the chair opposite her and sat without a word, waiting for her to look up when she'd come to a natural stopping point in her homework. He scrutinised her while her quill flew rapidly across her parchment, noticing that the dark circles under her eyes were more pronounced than ever. Over the last few days her face seemed constantly pinched with stress and her body was always tense - even in their ballet classes with the Vittozzis. The sight had annoyed him at first because he knew that it was her own stubbornness that was to blame - she'd taken on too much but refused to neither acknowledge it nor do anything to combat it. She was being pig-headed and appeared too proud to admit that she'd made a misjudgement about her body's ability to hold up after months of overexertion. Theo could relate to the pride - a common trait of his house - but every member of Slytherin knew that self-preservation took precedence. Luckily, Granger seemed to have finally come to that conclusion too. It wasn't as though Theo particularly cared for her well-being - he certainly wouldn't call her a friend. No, he just lamented the loss of his liberating dancing sessions with her and Tam, that was all. The day after their discussion in the library about her time-turner and her health, Granger had tried to convince Theo that their rehearsals could and should continue, but she'd had to pause in her arguments twice as her body was wracked with barking coughs that almost made him wince. Unsurprisingly, she failed to convince him to change his mind and he'd assumed that was that: their strange alliance over.

But then something had happened. Theo didn't know what exactly but he suspected it had something to do with Potter and Weasley. During his discrete observations of Granger whilst he went through his personal crisis about blood, Theo had noticed that the three friends weren't on speaking terms - or, more accurately, Potter and Weasley weren't speaking to her and vice versa. Theo hadn't particularly cared. However, just yesterday, Theo noticed a deterioration in Hermione's emotional state and Weasley was openly glaring at her every chance he got. Again, Theo wasn't particularly interested in their squabbles but he couldn't prevent himself from feeling _something_ when Granger came to him that evening looking meek, broken and so unlike herself.

"Y-you're right," she told him quietly between the shelves of the Arithmancy section. She dabbed at her nose with a handkerchief and he suspected that this was more due to the unshed tears glistening in her eyes than the lingering effects of her cold. "I can't go on like this anymore."

"What are you going to do?" he asked her, uncomfortable at being near someone who looked ready to burst into tears at any moment.

"I can't drop one of my subjects," she insisted.

"So you want to take some time back for yourself?" he asked.

She paused and then nodded. "But I don't know the best way to do it. I don't want anyone to find out I've been abusing the time-turner - a lot of trust was put into me to have it. I thought you might have some ideas about how I could go about it, what with you being a, um-"

"Sneaky Slytherin?" Theo provided and despite her emotional state, her lips pulled into a small smile even though it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Yes, I suppose."

And that was why he'd been to see Professor Snape straight after breakfast that morning.

Granger put down her quill, rubbed her eyes and then looked over at him, blinking a couple of times to bring him into focus.

"We're all set," Theo told her simply.

Instead of the relieved look he'd anticipated, Granger bit her lip and looked anxious. "Really? And you don't think he knows that I'll be with you, that I'll be using _it_ to get a few hours rest?"

"Unless he can read minds, I don't think he'd guess that in a hundred years," Theo replied with a small smirk. "Does he even know you have one?"

She shrugged her shoulders slightly. "I don't know. Professor McGonagall obviously does because she gave it to me, and I'm sure Professor Dumbledore must be aware, but as for the rest of the staff?" She shrugged her shoulders again and then sighed. "Are you sure this is a good idea, Nott?"

"No offence, Granger, but you look like shit," he told her bluntly. Her mouth tightened and her cheeks flushed red but Theo continued, "You need this. As long as we're careful about getting to and from the boathouse, no one's going to have the faintest idea that we've gone out on a boat together. I told you: I've been a few times over the years and I've never met anyone from school."

Granger held his gaze, looking like she desperately wanted to believe him, and he kept his expression honest, giving her no reason to doubt him.

"OK," she breathed eventually and he couldn't stop the small smile that pulled at his lips. "As long as I get enough work done today and the quidditch match doesn't go on too long, we'll go tomorrow morning." She sent him a hesitant smile. "You promise you really know how to sail a boat?"

"I spent half my childhood on boats, Granger. I know what I'm doing," he said confidently.

Theo rose early the next morning in order to get the boat prepared by the time Granger arrived, so he didn't hear about Sirius Black's latest foray into the castle until she told him. If it was possible, she looked even more tired than ever with her red, puffy eyes. He strongly suspected she'd cried over the incident and how close Weasley had apparently come to death at the hands of Black. Despite the fact that she and Weasley seemed to have had a significant falling out, it was apparent that Granger still cared about him.

"But they found no sign of Black?" Theo asked as he helped Granger step into the boat.

She shook her head. "None. He vanished again." She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. It was a fine spring day but there was a distinct chill in the air even within the shelter of the boathouse. Once they had moved onto the lake properly, the wind would be much stronger and though that was great for sailing, it wouldn't make the temperature very pleasant for her.

"Here," he said, handing over a blanket that he had put a warming charm on. She took it gratefully and wrapped it tightly around her body. "What about you - won't you be cold?"

"Not really," he answered. "I like it." He made a last couple of checks and then untied the ropes that kept the boat secured in the boathouse. With a tap from his wand, the boat started to slowly glide towards the opening. He could sense Granger's eyes on him as he worked but he was intent on making sure that he took them out onto the lake smoothly. It was one thing to go sailing on his own but quite another to take a passenger that had put a lot of faith in his abilities.

The boat wasn't the same as the little ones the first years used but was a relatively small wooden dinghy complete with a mainsail, jib sail and rudder. It was the same boat he'd taken out whenever he went sailing and he knew it was reliable and responded well to him. When they were well clear of the boathouse, he released the sails and set to work to get them sailing comfortably into the lake. It took a lot of concentration and a fair amount of skill but Theo had sailed so much that he was able to move around the boat without hardly even thinking about what he was doing. His use of magic helped, of course, particularly when the boom would just swing through himself or Granger like they weren't really there. Apart from that, Theo liked to do most of the sailing work himself and only used his magic when necessary. He loved the feeling of working with the elements around him and although the smoothness of the lake wasn't the same as the crashing waves of home, the feel of the boat skimming through the water took him back there all the same. It was a feeling that was just as blissful and freeing as when he was dancing.

"How on earth do you know how to sail so well?" Granger asked him, her eyes wide and intrigued as she watched him move quickly around the boat.

"My family home is on the Cornish coast," he replied, adjusting the tiller slightly so that they changed course. "We have our own cove and everything. The sea - it's part of you when you live so close to it like we do, like the Notts have for centuries; it's practically in our blood." He leant over so that his fingers could glide through the water. "I've been told my father first took me out in his boat when I was just a few hours old and he taught me to swim and sail from an early age - to know how to respect the sea and her moods."

He withdrew his fingers from the icy water and glanced over at Granger. She was watching him keenly and he felt a wave of relief. He'd never really told anyone about his love for being on the water. The other Slytherins in his year knew that he occasionally went sailing on the lake at weekends but he doubted they knew how much it was a part of him. He didn't think his friends would understand but he felt completely at ease sharing with Granger. Perhaps it was because she already knew something about him that the rest of his house, save Tam, didn't. Still, it was extremely strange that the person he felt most able to open up to, to be his true self around, was a muggleborn Gryffindor that he would barely let himself _look at_, let alone _touch,_ a few weeks ago.

"Do you still sail with your father now?" she asked.

Theo shook his head. "No, he prefers to be left alone with his thoughts - at one with the sea."

Granger frowned. "But you can't use magic when you're home. Surely it's pretty dangerous for you to go out on your own."

Theo shrugged. "It's best to get to know how to sail a boat without magic first," he explained, "and I can tell when the conditions aren't safe to sail. Besides, I'm never completely alone - I always have Carenza with me."

"Carenza?" Granger asked.

"My crup," Theo explained and then paused. "Do you know what a crup is?"

Granger frowned. "I don't think they're in the textbook that Hagrid gave us."

Theo refrained from rolling his eyes. "No, they're not in the 'Monster Book of Monsters' because they're not monsters. They're a wizarding breed of dog. Hang on, I think I've got a picture of her," he paused a moment to make sure that everything was OK with the boat and then reached inside his cloak to withdraw a couple of photographs that he handed carefully to her.

"Oh, she looks like a, um, a Jack Russell," Granger told him, her eyes following the movements of Carenza as she chased the waves on their cove. "She's so sweet."

"She can be," Theo agreed, "and she can also be a bloody menace but that's crups for you."

He looked back to their position on the lake and tried to determine a good place to stop. He wondered if Granger would rather go onto one of the islands rather than bob around on the boat for a few hours.

"Oh, is this your mother?" she asked and Theo's heart clenched painfully. "She's so beautiful."

"Yeah, she was," he said softly but Granger still heard him.

"Was?" she repeated in confusion and then her eyes widened. "Oh, she's not...is she?"

"My mother died when I was a child," he told her but kept his eyes focused on the surface of the lake. "She was sick for a very long time. The healers tried everything they could think of but, in the end, there was nothing they could do."

"Theo, I'm, I'm so sorry to hear that," Granger said, sounding like she meant it even though she didn't know his mother and, in all honesty, his mother wouldn't have liked Granger - she had been equally as fanatic about pureblood supremacy as his father.

"Thank you," he murmured. "It's not something I like to talk about."

"No, of course, I understand," she said. "Here." She held out the photographs to him and he tucked them securely back inside his cloak.

The mood had turned sombre and stagnant. Theo hated the feeling of it against his chest. He turned to Granger and forced a brighter tone to his voice as he said, "I know we came out here so you could rest but how about I put this boat through its paces first - show you what it's made of?"

Granger's eyes searched his face for a moment and then she nodded. "Alright. But if I end up in the water I'm not going to be pleased, Nott."

He nearly grinned. "Just keep a tight hold onto the side and you should be fine." He paused. "Wait - you can swim, right?"

She looked at him sharply but her voice was wary as she said, "Yes..."

"Then like I said, you should be fine." He waited until he had seen her grip the side of the boat and brace herself before he altered their course so that the full force of the wind was spurring them onwards. When he was confident he had the dinghy under control, he took out his wand and tapped the side of the boat to increase their speed.

Theo gave a whoop of delight as they raced through the water, the wind whipping madly around him. He deftly maneuvered around the boat to make sure they were safe as his soul practically sung with the joy of it. He glanced over at Granger, worried that she might not be enjoying their fast-paced ride but he found it hard to tell at first because the wind was blowing her hair wildly across her face. He tapped the side of the boat again and it slowed down a little. Granger drew a hand over her face to keep her hair out of the way and Theo was relieved to see that her eyes were bright and excited.

"That was incredible," she said with a laugh and then focused her gaze on him. "You're amazing."

Her words created a strange feeling in his chest and he was aware of his cheeks growing warm despite the bracing wind. He averted his eyes and noticed some familiar ripples in the water.

Before he could give Granger a warning, a couple of tentacles broke through the water and playfully nudged the side of the boat. She gave a gasp of alarm and shrank away from it, nearly falling onto Theo's legs.

"It's OK," he reassured her. "It won't hurt you." He aimed a charm at the sails which allowed the wind to flow right through them as though they were no longer there and tapped the side of the boat twice to make it stay in place on the surface of the lake. "The giant squid normally comes out to play when I'm sailing. It's perfectly harmless."

Granger sent him a disbelieving look but Theo reached down into the bottom of the boat and withdrew a small bundle from the picnic basket he'd requested from the kitchens.

"You brought the giant squid some lunch?" she asked faintly as she watched him unwrap a collection of raw fish.

"It would be rude not to," he told her with a hint of a smirk and she let out a breath of laughter.

The squid could tell that food was on its way because a couple more of the tentacles were sticking out of the water.

"Here you go, pal," Theo said, picking up a slippery bit of salmon and chucking it so that it landed a few feet away in the water. The fish disappeared instantly. Theo picked up another bit and threw it in the opposite direction.

"Do you want to throw some?" he asked Granger as she continued to watch him a little mystified.

"Uh, sure." She selected a chunk of tuna and flung it as hard as she could straight ahead of them. It landed with a small splash and they felt their boat bob in the water slightly thanks to the movements of the squid below them.

Theo threw a couple more pieces and then levitated a sardine into the air. "Watch this," he told her, making the small fish fly across the water in a random pattern. The surface of the lake was still for a few moments and then a tentacle burst upwards, slapping the fish down into the water.

They spent a couple more minutes feeding the giant squid until all the pieces of fish were gone.

Granger smiled at him as she scourgified the fish goop from her hands. "There's much more to you than meets the eye, isn't there, Nott?"

Theo shrugged because he couldn't think of anything to say in response.

There was a splashing noise behind them as the giant squid raised a couple of tentacles in farewell and they both waved.

Theo shrugged off his outer cloak and toed-off his shoes.

"What are you doing?" Granger asked.

"The safest time to go for a swim is after the giant squid's been around - lots of the other creatures in the lake are terrified of it," he explained simply.

Granger's eyes widened. "You're going for a swim?" she repeated incredulously as he took off his sweater. "The water's freezing - you're crazy!"

Theo laughed. "I always go for a swim when I take a boat out:I told you, water's practically in my blood." Granger continued to gape at him but for some reason this made him stand taller, carry himself with more confidence. "The temperature doesn't bother me," he claimed as he took off his shirt and strapped his wand into a holder on his forearm, "but I don't mind if you cast some warming charms on my clothes whilst I'm in the water."

"Oh, er, of course," she replied, still staring at him.

He gave her a nod, steadied himself for a moment, and then dived smoothly into the water.

OK, it was pretty bloody cold in the lake but it wasn't unbearable by any stretch. In fact, he welcomed the familiar sensation that zipped through his body like a spark of magic, bringing forth a feeling of vitality and vigour that he'd always loved. He swept his arms wide and kicked his legs powerfully to propel himself downwards into the murky water of the lake. Despite his claim to Granger that he would be safe, he would be a fool not to check that he wasn't interrupting a hunt by the merpeople or whether a swarm of grindylows were close by. He swivelled gracefully in the water but could see nothing to worry him so he kicked to take himself back up to the surface.

He heard Granger gasp as his head broke through a few feet away from the boat. "Thank Merlin - you were down there for ages - I thought something had happened."

"Worried about me, Granger?" he teased, flicking a little water her way but it didn't land anywhere close to her.

"Yes, but only because I would've been stuck on this boat without any way of getting back," she replied, her tone equally playful. "If you'd drowned or got yourself eaten it would've been your own silly fault for entering that icy water."

Theo swam a little closer. "Honestly, Granger, it's not that bad. You should come in."

She gave a short laugh. "No way. You might have a special bond with water that stops you from freezing to death but I can assure you that I don't." She suddenly seemed to realise that he was closer to her and that there was mischief in his eyes because she backed away a little and said, "Nott, don't you dare - I have a cold, remember?"

Theo held his hands up in a pacifying gesture to show that he meant no harm and wasn't going to splash her as he'd intended. "Fine. But when you're well again there's no excuse - particularly in summer." Her eyes searched his face for a moment and his confidence waned a little. "You know… if you _want_ to come out again… there's no obligation or anything," he murmured and then submerged the lower part of his face in the water to hide some of his awkwardness.

Granger nodded and gave him a small smile. "I, er, bet it's lovely out on the lake in the summer."

Theo lifted his head again, buoyed by her words. "It is." He turned to the side slightly and gestured to a small island with his chin. "You see that island over there - it's got a little clearing that's perfect for studying in peace. That's where I thought we could go today so you can rest."

Granger turned to look at it and then switched her gaze back to Theo. "All right," she agreed.

"Let me just dive down once more and then we'll go," he promised.

Getting out of the water was actually much colder than being in it and he tried to repress any shivers as he accepted the warmth-charmed blanket from Granger. He rubbed it roughly over his torso and head to get rid of most of the water and then cast a drying charm on his trousers.

"Here," she said, handing over his heated shirt.

"Thanks," he said gratefully before tugging it over his shoulders.

"I still think you're a little crazy," she told him but there was amusement in her voice.

"And I think you're crazy for taking all the elective subjects so I guess that makes us even," Theo replied lightly as he accepted his cloak from her.

It didn't take him long to sail the boat over to the island and he magically moored it in place before helping her levitate their possessions over to dry land. He was about to offer to levitate Granger too, but she had already removed her shoes and socks and rolled up the legs of her trousers. She sat on the edge of the boat, took a deep breath and then lowered herself into the shallow water. She shrieked loudly. "Nott - it's _freezing!_" She turned astonished eyes on him briefly and then quickly waded out of the water, muttering under her breath.

Theo laughed and then half-jumped over the side to follow her.

"I swear my feet have gone numb already," she claimed, sitting on the stony shore and rubbing her feet in the warm blanket. "I'm not convinced that this excursion of yours is going to rid me of my cold after all."

Theo was about to make a retort but he was distracted by the weight of her bag. "Granger - have you brought homework with you?" he asked in an accusatorial tone. "You're supposed to be here to rest."

She let out a huff as she pulled her socks back on. "It's _not_ work," she insisted. "It's just a little something else that I need to work on."

Judging by the weight of her bag, it certainly wasn't 'a _little_ something' and he told her as much but she just ignored him and took the satchel from his hands once her shoes had been replaced. He led the way through the trees to the little clearing he'd discovered and they spent a couple of minutes making themselves comfortable by laying out the blanket and Granger charmed a portable blue fire that wouldn't damage the wildlife.

"So, what's this side project you're working on?" Theo asked as he poured her a cup of tea from the flask in the picnic basket.

Her mouth tightened and her eyes became a touch defensive. She reached into her bag with her spare hand and pulled out a hefty book which she placed on the blanket between them. He rotated the tome so that he could see the title. "_Dangerous Animal Hearings of the Seventeenth Century_," Theo read and then raised his eyes to her. "I don't understand."

"Buckbeak's hearing is in a few weeks," she explained primly. "I'm researching similar cases that will help Hagrid win."

Theo stared at her for a moment, trying to understand what she was talking about. He raised his eyebrows when he figured it out. "The hippogriff that attacked Draco? That's what this is about?"

She nodded curtly, her posture still defensive, but Theo couldn't stop himself from letting out a surprised laugh. "Why are you wasting your time on that?"

"To prevent a miscarriage of justice, of course," she declared. "Buckbeak's not dangerous - "

"He seemed pretty dangerous when he nearly ripped Draco's arm off," Theo pointed out.

"Only because Malfoy insulted him," she argued hotly. "Do you not remember Hagrid saying how proud they were? Why should Buckbeak be punished just because Malfoy is too arrogant to listen to instructions?"

"Oh, yeah, I forgot that you said Hagrid's your friend," Theo said, thankfully keeping his instinctive sneer out of his voice.

"I'm not doing this because Hagrid's my friend," Granger denied quickly and then sighed. "I'm not _just_ helping him because he's my friend," she clarified, "It's not fair - Buckbeak's no more dangerous than any other hippogriff." She blew angrily on her tea to cool it down. "You remember Hagrid saying that they were proud, don't you?"

"Does it matter?" Theo asked.

"Of course the truth matters," she retorted.

"It won't make any difference to the outcome," he told her.

"Why not?"

"Because, if his son was injured, I know Lucius Malfoy will be there to see those responsible are punished," Theo said.

"So?" she asked moodily but he could tell that she knew what he was trying to say.

"Lucius has a lot of friends in the right places and a lot of sway within the Ministry," he explained. "Anyone that's judging in that hearing is more than likely to be one of his acquaintances or someone wanting to hold favour with him."

Granger scoffed and took an angry sip of tea. "Like that's justice," she muttered.

"Maybe it's not," Theo agreed, "But that's how the Ministry works according to my father."

Granger looked darkly at her tea. "Let me guess: the purer your blood, the more influence you have."

Theo recalled his conversation with signor Vittozzi about blood discrimination - about how it almost didn't matter that there wasn't a distinction between the actual blood because as long as people believed muggleborns to be inferior then it was enough to make it true; that purebloods would maintain the belief to keep the power between themselves. He had never really thought about that trickling down to a hearing for an alleged dangerous animal. He didn't think that Hagrid was muggleborn but that didn't really matter as he wasn't a pureblood either and therefore Lucius would win. It wasn't even worth the fight and he told her so.

"So Hagrid and I should just give up, should we?" she asked indignantly. "You do realise they'll almost certainly execute Buckbeak."

Theo shrugged. "Why fight something that's inevitable?"

Granger stared at him. "Wow," she said flatly. She shook her head and drank some tea and Theo did likewise. He wasn't sorry for what he'd said - he knew more about wizarding politics than she did and he knew that he was right.

"What if it was your crup?" she posed.

Theo looked at her sharply. "What do you mean?"

"You said she can be a menace - do crups ever attack people?"

"Not if they're well trained."

"Well, what if Carenza was provoked into hurting someone and then someone like Lucius Malfoy wanted to have her executed? Wouldn't you fight it if she means that much to you?"

His insides writhed at the very thought. "That's different," he claimed.

"Because you're a pureblood?" she queried and he nodded. "But I'm asking you to put yourself in Hagrid's position. Would a change in your blood status mean you'd be happy to hand her over without trying to stop her death?"

"Carenza's been with me since my mother died - silly as it sounds, she's my best friend. You can't compare that bond to a teacher and his hippogriff."

"Well, you don't know Hagrid like I do. He has a bond with animals like no other person I've ever met. Losing Buckbeak would completely devastate him and if there's a chance I can prevent that from happening, no matter how small, I'm going to do whatever I can."

She held his gaze challengingly for a moment then pulled another large book from her bag about dangerous animal hearings and started to look through it.

Theo just stared at her, taken aback by the passion with which she'd argued about someone else's hippogriff. As a Slytherin, he wasn't used to witnessing people put others before themselves in such a selfless manner. Granger didn't get anything in return from helping Hagrid, and Theo was still convinced that her efforts would be met with no reward. She was on the brink of an exhausted breakdown but she was still helping her friend. It would be easy to scoff at her Gryffindor traits rising to the fore and her naivety about how the world worked, but he found himself quite affected by her words. Maybe it was because she had involved Carenza - Theo's weak spot for sure.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each looking at books that they'd brought with them until a wide yawn from Granger caught his attention. "You should catch up on some sleep," he told her. "That's why we came out here, remember?"

She didn't raise her eyes from the piece of parchment that she was making notes on. "I know but I want to finish looking through this section. I'm not even that tired anyway." She yawned again and then raised her eyes sheepishly as he sent her a pointed glance.

"You can finish that when you redo your morning," he reminded her, nodding at her notes.

"But what will you be doing?" she asked.

"Don't you trust me?" He forced his tone to be light but he felt unexpectedly hurt by her wariness.

"Oh, no, it's not that," she said easily and Theo's unhappiness was instantly swept away. "Are you not going to be really bored if I sleep for a couple of hours?"

"Hardly," Theo responded, indicating the book on Egyptian wizards he'd brought with him. "I can easily forget about the rest of the world when I'm reading." She held his gaze for a moment as though checking his sincerity. "Honestly, Granger. It's fine - get some rest."

"OK." She stoppered her ink and placed her book, parchment and quill to one side before lying back on the blanket with a sigh.

Theo was surprised to hear her breathing become steadier within just a couple of minutes but that only proved how exhausted she really was. It was a strange feeling to realise that Hermione Granger was comfortable enough to sleep in his presence but, then again, he'd thought nothing of stripping off half of his clothes in front of _her_. Well, that wasn't entirely true - diving into the cold water had been showing off a little bit because he'd enjoyed her admiring gaze when he'd sailed the boat so well and revealed his affinity with the giant squid.

Somehow, in a matter of weeks, Granger had come to know more about who he truly was than anyone else in his life and a part of him needed some approval in the early stages of his journey of self-discovery.

There was plenty to admire about her in return. Her intelligence and magical ability couldn't be argued with. He was also a little envious of her bravery, too - he didn't think he'd be able to endure the signora's obvious disdain week after week or the taunts she received from the rest of the Slytherins. And, though it was a little foreign to him, he was a little awed by the passion that burned within her for her friends and life in general. There was no sign of that inner fire while she slept - her face was quite calm.

His gaze flicked down to her notes. They were never going to see eye to eye on everything - their upbringings had been too different for that and their opposing houses were also indicative of their dissimilar personalities - but that didn't mean that there wasn't room for growth on both sides.

Theo put his own book to one side and reached for the animal tome and parchment instead. After reading a few pages, he picked up the quill and ink and started to write.

* * *

A/N Writing this story makes me happy. It's so interesting to write about two characters that have had such different experiences in their lives so far. I'd love to know what you think of this chapter and the story so far.

Love,

Red


	7. Third Year - Part Six

A/N There were so many lovely responses to the last chapter. Thank you all so much.

* * *

Third Year - Part Six

Hermione blinked in surprise at the tawny owl that had landed beside her bowl of cereal: it wasn't often that she received any post. She removed the letter from the bird's leg and offered it some bacon before opening the parchment. When she'd read the small note within, she glanced up at the Slytherin table. Breakfast had only just begun and there were barely a handful of students present from each house. Nott was the only Slytherin student seated from the younger years and he must have sensed her gaze because he looked up. In the brief moment that their eyes met, he raised one eyebrow challengingly, she gave him a small nod and then he returned his attention to his breakfast with the tiniest hint of a pleased expression on his face.

Hermione felt a twinge of apprehension but it had nothing to do with Nott himself. Her unexpected friendship with him had grown stronger since their trip out on the lake two weeks ago, as had her health. A couple of days after catching up on some sleep on the little island, she finally felt her cold symptoms start to disappear, and by the end of the week she was fully recovered. She didn't know whether the improvement was _truly_ down to her secret trip with Nott, but it had certainly given her a mental lift if not a physical one. When she'd woken in the clearing to discover that he'd filled two pieces of parchment with notes from the books she'd brought, she'd been utterly flabbergasted. Once again she'd asked herself the question: who exactly was Theodore Nott?

A few months ago she'd had him all figured out as your average bigoted, pureblood Slytherin, but then he'd asked her for a book about muggles and danced with her as an equal. His talent at sailing was very unexpected, as was his connection with the water. He'd come alive out on the lake in a way that she'd previously only glimpsed when they'd been dancing. The small details he'd shared about his mother and beloved pet crup added another, more vulnerable, dimension to his character that she hadn't anticipated, but this was trumped by him helping her fight Buckbeak's case - a cause he'd already claimed they'd certainly lose. Two weeks later, she could still barely believe he'd done so much to help her that day. His notes were good, too, and as long as Hagrid delivered them well in Saturday's hearing, Buckbeak would stand his best chance of winning (though Nott requested that she didn't tell Hagrid about his involvement).

They'd already gone on a second trip out on the lake just yesterday. It had been another nice spring day but a little colder than their previous trip - though that hadn't stopped Nott taking another dip in the water. Unsurprisingly, she had still refused to join him. However, he did teach her a few basics about how to sail the dinghy and let her have a go at operating the tiller.

"My parents and I don't really live anywhere near the coast," Hermione had told Nott once they'd successfully made it onto the island. "We had a few trips down to the seaside when I was younger but I never went sailing - it was just paddling in the waves, climbing on the rocks, building sandcastles and that sort of thing."

"You don't have any siblings?" he asked.

"No, it's just me, Mum and Dad," she confirmed as they walked through the trees. "They're dentists."

"Dentists?" he repeated. "What's that?"

"Oh, they're like muggle healers for your teeth," she explained. She could tell by the look on Nott's face that he thought this was an odd profession but he made no comment about it. "What about your father - what does he do?"

"Good question," Nott replied. "He spends most of his time shut up in his study since my mother died. Sometimes I'll go days without even seeing him."

Hermione glanced over at him with sympathy. "That must be pretty lonely," she said softly.

Nott shrugged. "I'm used to it. I have Carenza to keep me company and there are my aunts Constance and Lavinia too."

"Do they live with you?" Hermione asked intrigued.

"Yes. Aunt Constance has lived in the house all her life. She's actually my father's aunt and about a hundred years old," he explained.

"She's lived in the same house for a hundred years?" Hermione gasped.

"It's the Nott family's ancestral home - Hanternoss Hall," he said. "She never got married so it's the only home she's ever known apart from Hogwarts. My other aunt, Lavinia, is my father's sister. She married a Bulstrode but they had no children and he died a year or so before my mother. She moved back to Hanternoss to help my father raise me."

"Oh, that was nice of her," she said when she couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Mmm," Nott replied unconvincingly. "Preparing the next generation of Nott was very important to her. I'd love to see the look on her face if she knew I was here with you."

Hermione felt coldness sweep through her. "She's an advocate of pureblood supremacy then?"

"Oh yes," Nott confirmed with certainty as they came into the clearing. "Nothing's as important as blood and upholding the Nott name to my family. It's all I ever heard as I was growing up, but I imagine that was the same for most families like mine."

Hermione glanced at him. They'd never actually had the 'blood' conversation before, perhaps because it was quite sensitive for both of them. She'd never really thought about what it was like growing up in a family like Nott's - having the hateful belief that muggles were dirt drummed into them from the moment they were born. Maybe it wasn't such a surprise that so many purebloods believed in it after all. She almost felt a little sorry for them that they were taught to look down on others from such a young age. But that didn't excuse them maintaining their bigoted opinions as they got older and had the chance to learn more about the world - to discover the truth like Nott had done. Unfortunately, he was a rare case amongst his peers.

"I'm still not sure whether my family genuinely believe it or they choose to as a way to remain one of the leading families in magical Britain," Nott mused as they unfurled the blanket. "Either way, they'd be horrified to know that I think it's a load of shit."

"You won't tell them, will you?" she asked. She had a feeling that they wouldn't take too kindly to hearing that.

Nott laughed. "Not while I still have to live with them. They'd probably try to use some sort of spell or potion to make me change my mind: they can't have the last Nott disgracing the family name."

She felt a stab of pity that he had to hide who he truly was from so many people, but at least he didn't have to be that way with her. She suspected that Nott needed their trips away from the castle just as much as she did.

They planned to go to their island every other weekend as long as the weather was fair, and Hermione found that her apprehension over using the time-turner to repeat her Sunday mornings had diminished. She was healthier and happier than she had been in months (despite the fact that Ron was still convinced that Crookshanks had killed Scabbers).

Her extra dance sessions with Davies and Nott were also going well, and the two of them had somehow mastered the laborious Highland reel. There were only three weeks left until their examination and Tam had agreed to give them a second rehearsal slot a week, even though he was very busy with his own exam preparations. Nott had only agreed to her putting her body through another hour of dance on one condition, and they had spent a lot of the previous day debating over it. Nott had made some very good points and eventually convinced her to meet him halfway...

Hermione took her final sip of tea and left the Great Hall to make the long trek up to the Divination Tower. She'd scheduled an early meeting with Professor Trelawney and hoped to have it concluded before the rest of the Third Year students turned up. She clutched Nott's encouraging note in her hand as she walked and told herself she was doing the right thing: she was not skilled in Divination (not that she thought many people were) and if she was unlikely to score well in her end-of-year exam then there was no point in continuing with the subject. No Divination would mean that there were two hours of lessons per week she no longer had to sit through and less homework, too. Nott had tried to convince her to give up Muggle Studies as well but Hermione had pointed out that she should do well in that test, so she was determined to stick with it even if it was only until the end of the year.

The ladder was already down when she reached the tower. She took a moment to prepare herself before she ascended into the heavily-perfumed classroom for what she hoped was the final time.

* * *

Their voices were hushed as they spoke anxiously to each other in the dance corridor. Half of their ballet class were already inside the room for their examination, while the rest waited to be called in. Hermione envied those who had been in the first group because she was struggling to contain her nerves.

Nott and the other Slytherins were in the first exam and she hoped that he was doing well. She was confident that he was: Nott had been good from the start and Hermione was sure that he'd gained a lot of confidence from the sessions with Tam Davies. While she didn't prescribe to the signora's view that purebloods were born for the ballet, Hermione did think that Nott seemed to be a natural in the art.

As for herself, Hermione knew that she'd come a long way over the year so far and the shaping of her body came much more easily to her. Her main difficulty now was the performance element of ballet: presenting the moves she knew so well with a smile on her face and that air of gracefulness. It was easier to do in her smaller sessions without the Slytherins around. They had been making particularly snide comments to her for a couple of weeks and Pansy had even tried to trip her up when the Vittozzis weren't looking. Hermione knew exactly why the hostilities had ramped up: she had hit Malfoy when he'd been making fun of Hagrid.

She didn't regret losing her temper with him when Hagrid was so heartbroken over Buckbeak's impending execution. The whole hearing had played out exactly as Nott had predicted and the unfairness of it all had left her furious. She could still picture the staggered expression on Malfoy's face that she had dared to strike him, and it produced a good feeling within her though she knew it wasn't right to go around slapping people even if they were arrogant little slimeballs.

Davies had given her a high five during their next session. "I don't know what he did to piss you off, Granger, but I'm in no doubt that the little shit deserved it."

"You should be careful though," Nott had said. "Draco hasn't told anyone about it but everyone knows anyway. He's furious and he'll look to get you back."

But if the worst that Malfoy could do was call her a disgusting mudblood and get other people to bump into her then Hermione wasn't particularly worried.

"Do you think they'll want to see the galop or the allemande?" Neville asked her nervously. "I hope not - I think I've completely forgotten how to dance them."

"You'll be fine once the music starts, Neville," she reassured him. "You've done really well at all the traditional dances lately." That was mostly true because Neville was a lot better than he'd been at the start of the year, but he still relied on his partners heavily to give him subtle hints about what to do next.

"Thanks, Hermione. I hope I don't mess it up for you," Neville told her sheepishly.

"Don't be silly - you'll be great," she told him with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. He smiled gratefully at her and then a look of realisation came upon his face.

"Oh, I completely forgot," he muttered, reaching down to search through his bag. He stood up and handed her a small card. "They asked me to give it to you because you'd already left."

"Thanks," she said as she opened the good luck card to see Harry and Ron's names signed at the bottom. She smiled at their show of support; it was nice to have her friends back. The terrible news from Hagrid about Buckbeak had been enough to make them bury their differences. Scabbers' disappearance was still a sensitive subject, but Hermione suspected that the boys felt guilty about isolating her and forgetting about their promise to help Hagrid prepare Buckbeak's defence, and they had been tentatively trying to make amends over the last couple of weeks. She didn't see the need to tell them about Nott, both in terms of his assistance with Buckbeak and that her developing friendship with him hadn't left her quite as alone as they'd assumed. Ron and Harry weren't ready to hear that there were at least two people in Slytherin House that were worth getting to know - certainly not with the Quidditch Cup final between the two houses to be played in a matter of weeks. She wanted to tell them about Nott but she also didn't want to risk her friendship with him by involving them.

Nott had apparently become aware that she was friends with Harry and Ron again because in the next dance session they'd had together he'd been noticeably more distant with her. She couldn't work out the cause of it until she'd asked him if they were going to the island together that weekend.

"You still want to go?" he asked her, clearly surprised.

She looked at him curiously. "Why wouldn't I? Dropping Divination might have given me back a couple of hours a week but there's still so much I have to do."

He frowned. "But I thought that now Potter and Weasley are talking to you again…" He trailed off.

"What - I wouldn't want to spend time with you anymore?" she asked.

"Well, yes," he admitted, still frowning.

"You can't be rid of me that easily," she told him lightly but then paused. "Unless _you'd_ rather we stop, of course."

His mouth struggled to find the words for a moment. "No, I like our trips on the lake," he eventually said. "I like spending time with you."

Hermione was distinctly aware that her cheeks felt warm but she tried to ignore it. "That's good because I like having you as a friend too, Nott."

The corners of his mouth lifted at her words and he nodded. "Friends," he confirmed.

Hermione's focus was brought back to the present when the door to the dance classroom was opened and the first group filed out looking sweaty and red-faced. They talked in excited whispers and all looked quite happy with how their exam had gone. Hermione discretely tried to catch Nott's eye. When he sensed her gaze, he sent her a very small nod and half smile which she presumed meant that he was pleased with his performance.

The Vittozzis also exited the room and the signora loudly announced how pleased she was with those who had just performed. Her enthusiasm faltered when her gaze turned to the students who were minutes away from taking their own exam, particularly when she looked at Hermione and Neville, but Hermione was so used to her disdain that she barely even noticed. The signor, however, gathered the remaining students together and looked at them proudly.

"You have all worked so hard," he said, looking at each of them in turn. "Some of you are almost unrecognisable from the dancers that stepped into that room in September. I am sure that you will all do yourselves proud. And remember - if something goes wrong, just keep smiling and carry on." He smiled at them encouragingly, patting a few on the shoulder as they returned to make their final preparations. "Show them what you're made of," he told Hermione quietly and her spirit soared at the goodwill she felt him sending her way.

"I will," she promised and then hurried over to her bag to put on her shoes.

Sooner than she expected, the group was asked to line up in the correct order to enter the examination room, and she hurried to take her place. She noticed that Nott was frowning slightly at her but when she caught his gaze, he gave her another discrete half-smile.

It wasn't until about five minutes into the exam that she realised that something was wrong.

It felt like something sharp was digging into her feet. It was a fleeting sensation at first and she thought that perhaps her nerves were creating cramps in her muscles. She tried to ignore it but as the barre exercises continued, the stabbing pain occurred with greater frequency and intensity. But what could she do about it? She could hardly ask them to stop the exam while she tried to figure out what was wrong - she'd fail the assessment and then all her hard work would have been for nothing. No, Keep smiling and carry on, Signor had said, so that's what she intended to do. With so many other students in the room, she just hoped that the four examiners wouldn't notice her discomfort from where they sat at the front of the room with the Vittozzis.

By the time they had reached the grand battements, their final barre exercise, Hermione was fighting back tears. Every movement of her foot felt like the skin was being sliced open but she knew there had been nothing in her ballet shoes before she'd put them on.

Signor Vittozzi was suddenly before her with a look of grave concern. "Miss Granger, what is it?"

Despite her best efforts to remain strong, Hermione couldn't stop her breath hitching into a small sob. "My feet," she whispered. "I don't…"

He looked down and his eyes widened as he muttered something in Italian. With her eyes full of tears it took Hermione a few seconds to see clearly and she let out a horrified gasp at the blood that had begun to seep out of her shoes.

Signor quickly signalled to his wife and then turned back to Hermione, promptly scooping her up into his arms and carrying her from the room. She could feel everyone's eyes on her but she was in too much pain to care.

"Francesco, what's going on?" signora Vittozzi asked hurriedly as she followed them into the corridor.

"Someone tampered with Hermione's shoes," he replied brusquely as he shouldered open the door to their office.

Signora gasped. "You don't mean…?"

"Yes. Remove the items on the desk for me," Signor requested, still holding Hermione in his arms. With a wave of her wand the desk became clear and he gently placed Hermione down. "We need to get these off you at once, Hermione," he said calmly, gesturing to the stained shoes.

It was only when the ballet slippers had been removed that they could see how much damage had been done. The tights on her feet had been completely shredded and the fabric inside the shoes was entirely red. Signora had gone pale and she covered her mouth with her hand as she gazed wide-eyed at the bloody mess.

"How did you even keep dancing for so long?" Signor muttered to himself as he conjured up a warm bowl of water and some cloth to wash her feet. "Why didn't you say anything, Hermione?"

"I- I didn't want to fail," she admitted shakily, wincing as the water stung all the tiny cuts that criss-crossed her feet. "Will they fail me?" she asked them tearily.

Signora cleared her throat and looked at Hermione more kindly than she ever had before. "I'll see what I can do."

"Get the ointment first," her husband suggested and she nodded, turning to leave before he added, "And send word in case Hermione has time to try again before the examiners need to leave."

Hermione felt a small ray of hope in her chest. "You can heal my feet that quickly?" she asked.

He looked up at her. "Possibly," he said conservatively. "My wife and I have encountered this curse a few times during our careers. The competition to be awarded the top dancing roles can inspire jealousy and vindictiveness in others. Most dancers take the precaution of casting protective charms on all their possessions to stop something like this. It has been a while since I've seen such a bad case - usually dancers know to take their shoes off straight away when they first experience the slicing pain. Whoever did this was particularly cruel to do so as you were about to take your exam, knowing you wouldn't want to stop."

Hermione clenched her hands into fists as a culprit with a sneering face and white-blond hair came into her mind. She should've been more vigilant about Malfoy's quest for revenge.

The door to the office opened and Signora entered followed by the lead examiner - a white-haired witch with immaculate posture and stylish navy robes. The examiner's eyes homed in on the red lines that still covered Hermione's feet and the blood-soaked shoes that sat beside her.

She tsked loudly and shook her head gracefully. "Yes, I see, a very bad case, but of course we will wait, Katriona," she said in a light voice that had a heavy Russian accent. "As long as Miss Granger is able to dance before our portkey is scheduled to leave." She turned her gaze to Hermione. "You did very well to mask your inner suffering, my dear," she said, patting Hermione on her hand. "I hope I will still get the chance to see you dance the remainder of the examination."

"Thank you, ma'am," Hermione replied politely. "I hope so too."

The examiner patted her hand once more and then turned to Signora. "We'll resume the exam for the others, Katriona. We shall do some of the traditional dances twice to make up for the odd number of students."

"Of course, Natalia," Signora agreed as she escorted the examiner out of the office.

"I hope Neville will be alright without me," Hermione said sadly the moment the door was closed.

Signor didn't even look up from the jar of ointment he was unscrewing. "Mr Longbottom will have to fend for himself for the moment," he said. "You are a good partner for him but I predict that having two opportunities to perform the dances might actually help him remember the steps. Now, this will sting a little bit at first but it's important that we leave the paste on for a while to give the cuts time to heal."

Hermione eyed the burgundy substance warily and then nodded her feet. The ointment was surprisingly warm but Signor was accurate about how painful it was. She screwed up her eyes and pressed her lips together as he covered her feet with it, but after a few minutes the stinging subsided.

There was a knock on the door and the signor opened it to reveal Nott and Davies on the other side. For some reason the sight of them made Hermione feel teary again and she swallowed a lump in her throat as they came to stand next to her.

"You OK, Granger?" Davies asked, frowning down at her. His eyes flicked over to her shoes and his expression darkened.

"I think I will be," she told him honestly. "My feet have stopped hurting and Signor says they should heal up pretty quickly."

"Good," Davies said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Always knew you were made of strong stuff."

Hermione sent him a grateful smile.

"I knew something like this would happen," Nott said quietly. "I warned you."

"I know," Hermione sighed. "I should have been more careful."

"You know who did this?" Signor asked, looking between them.

"I have a very strong suspicion but I didn't see anything," Hermione replied.

"Malfoy?" Davies asked and Hermione nodded.

"Little shit," Davies muttered and then glanced over at the ballet master. "Er, sorry, Signor."

To Hermione's surprise, signor Vittozzi shrugged indifferently at the insult to one of his students.

"I think I saw… _something_," Nott admitted quietly and they all looked at him. "It happened just after I came out of my exam when Signor was speaking to the second group. I couldn't see because there were too many people in the way but Draco and Pansy were near your things when they had no reason to be. I thought it was unusual at the time." He shook his head. "I should have said something."

Signor put a hand on his shoulder. "There's no point in dwelling on 'what ifs'," he told him. "Unfortunately, without actual proof there is little I can do to punish those responsible."

"Well, those idiots better not make the mistake of bragging about it where I can hear them because I don't have a problem turning them in," Davies said darkly.

"You'd need more evidence than that unless you want Draco's parents kicking up a fuss," Nott warned. "They won't want their son accused of being involved with such a dark spell."

Davies made a scathing noise. "Oh, yes. We can't have the integrity of the Malfoy name questioned, can we?"

Signor Vittozzi shook his head ruefully "I'm sorry that it's possible your attackers won't be brought to justice, Hermione."

"Apparently that's the way the world works sometimes," she said sadly, thinking back to how Lucius Malfoy had got his way in Buckbeak's hearing. She cast her mind away for a change in topic. "How did you both know what had happened?" she asked the Slytherins.

"Theo was in the middle of telling me how he got on in his exam when he got a note from Signora," Davies explained.

Hermione glanced over at Nott in surprise. "You did? Why?"

"She thought I could dance with you if you were recovered," he explained, surprising Hermione further.

"Did you think my wife didn't know you and Theodore practised together?" Signor asked, looking a little amused at her reaction. "I'm not sure Neville has the stamina to repeat the exam so soon after completing it and Tam tells us you dance very well with Theodore. You don't object, do you?"

"Of course not!" Hermione exclaimed. "I'm just surprised. I didn't even think."

"One little curse and she loses all her supposed intelligence," Davies teased and Hermione pushed him in response. "And here I was going to offer to find another dancer to partner me so you and Theo have some company in the traditional dances," he said in a haughty tone. "I don't think I'll bother now."

Hermione felt her cheeks flush. "You don't have to do that. I don't want you to go to any trouble."

Davies shrugged. "I've put a lot of effort into you, Granger. I want to see you get the grade you deserve."

"And it'll look good on his résumé if he's successfully mentored both you and Theodore to good examination results," Signor added.

Hermione and Nott pinned Davies with matching accusatory expressions. "You said you were helping us because you 'just love dance so much'," Hermione said suspiciously.

"Well, that's mostly true," he replied easily. "I didn't tell you about mentioning the mentoring on my company applications in case it put pressure on you both."

"Or you were waiting to see what results we got," Nott suggested with a wry smile.

Davies smirked. "I _am_ a Slytherin for a reason. So, should I get myself a dance partner or not?"

Hermione nodded. "As long as they're not from your house."

"Good point," Davies agreed. "I'll be back soon."

Experiencing the curse had been utterly horrific but, as she re-entered the dance classroom an hour later with her freshly healed feet, new shoes and a more determined attitude than she'd ever had before, she wished Malfoy and Parkinson could see that their spell had backfired. Hermione felt that the examiners were on her side and even Signora watched on approvingly. Nott was at her side during the centre work, and she felt that familiar sense of freedom with him there - it almost felt fun. Nott was so natural at performing the art to others that she found she was less self-conscious about adopting the graceful persona she'd been struggling to find in front of an audience. Davies and a blonde Hufflepuff joined them for the traditional dances which they breezed through flawlessly. There was even time for her and Nott to show off the Highland reel they'd been holding in reserve, and the rest of the room's occupants gave them a spontaneous round of applause when they finished perfectly in sync on the final note.

"Yeah, you two are _definitely_ going on my résumé," Davies told them smugly as he clapped along with the others. Hermione beamed at the two Slytherins, wondering when she'd last been that happy.

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A/N With everything that's going on, I thought we could use some fluffiness. I mean, I know there was a dark curse amidst all that but generally the chapter was cheering, right? I really hope you all enjoyed it. Keep safe everyone.

Red


	8. Third Year - Part Seven

A/N Hi guys! Thanks for all your support. I'm glad the last chapter cheered lots of you up!

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Third Year - Part Seven

On the last Sunday of the school year, Hermione finally fulfilled her promise and joined Theo in the lake water.

"I never actually promised," she'd argued on more than one occasion. "It was more an acknowledgement that going swimming was a possibility."

"Whatever you say, Granger," he would reply airily and she'd pretend to scowl at him.

It was set to be a warm and sunny day, so they made sure to leave earlier than normal to avoid being seen going out in the boat together before the other students celebrated the end of the year by the lakeside. Neither of them had ever expressed a wish to keep their friendship a secret because it was a given: they weren't prepared to deal with the outrage from their friends and their houses, and nor was Theo keen for word to reach his family about his change in attitude when he was due to spend the whole summer back in Hanternoss Hall with them. No, it was much easier to keep things to themselves.

Theo was looking forward to getting the chance to talk to her. Their exams had finished just a couple of days before and a lot had happened since then. He waited until he'd sailed them clear of the rocks by the boathouse before saying, "I heard that Buckbeak escaped. Draco's furious about it."

Granger grinned at him. "I know! Isn't it brilliant that he managed to free himself?"

Theo adjusted the tiller slightly and looked at her suspiciously. "Yes, it's almost unbelievably fortunate that he should escape just moments before his sentence was due to be carried out. Draco is sure that Hagrid managed to smuggle him away somehow."

"Well, I'm one hundred percent sure that he didn't," Granger replied confidently, her hair fluttering in the wind. "Hagrid told me himself that he was with Professor Dumbledore and the committee members when Buckbeak escaped so he couldn't have helped him"

"Doesn't mean that someone else didn't release the hippogriff for him," Theo pointed out, watching her closely.

"If they did then I'm very grateful to them," she said smoothly. "Buckbeak didn't deserve to die and if it annoys Malfoy then that's just an added bonus." She smirked at him with a distinctly Slytherin air.

He pointed at her expression. "Careful - you wouldn't want people knowing that spending time with Slytherins is starting to rub off on you."

She laughed and then pretended to shudder. "What a horrible thought."

They sailed in companionable silence for a couple of minutes until she said, "I take it you heard about Professor Lupin."

Theo nodded. "Snape announced it to our whole table at breakfast yesterday - it was the only thing people were talking about in Hogsmeade. I heard a rumour that he was out roaming the grounds on Friday night. Can you believe that? An actual werewolf right there," he said, nodding his head in the direction of the lawns and forest beyond.

"I wish he didn't have to go," Granger said sadly, "He's easily the best defence teacher we've had."

With his shabby clothes and mild manner, Lupin had been an easy target for the snobby attitudes of most Slytherins, but Theo had found his lessons engaging and educational. "I agree, but everyone knows it's incredibly dangerous to be around a werewolf even when it's not the full moon."

"How can you say that when we've been having lessons from a werewolf all year and he hasn't hurt a single person?" she asked. "Professor Dumbledore wouldn't have hired Professor Lupin if he thought it would put us in danger."

"You can't trust werewolves, everyone knows that."

"Like 'everyone knows' purebloods are superior to muggleborns?" Granger asked him pointedly and Theo clamped his mouth shut. "You've got to stop believing all these prejudices just because other people think that way. Use your own experiences to form your opinions: did you ever feel unsafe around Professor Lupin?"

Theo frowned. "No," he admitted, feeling a little unnerved by the way she had called him out. "But that doesn't change the fact that he could have hurt someone on Friday night if the rumours are true."

She sighed. "No, you're right. We were so lucky nobody got hurt."

Something about her words and tone felt off and Theo watched as she looked contemplatively out over the grounds. "I didn't see you, Potter and Weasley at breakfast yesterday - or around Hogsmeade. What happened?"

She looked over at him. "I forgot how observant you are."

"Well?" he asked after there was a long pause.

"Well what?"

"Where were you yesterday?"

"We just didn't fancy going," she told him simply. "Harry hasn't got permission, and it would be a bit unkind if Ron and I just left him here on his own."

"So it didn't have anything to do with Buckbeak or Lupin then?" he asked and her eyes widened.

"Why would it?" she asked defensively.

Theo shrugged. "It just seems a bit of a coincidence that's all: Buckbeak escaping, Lupin running about in the forest, the Dementors being recalled from the grounds without any explanation and you, Potter and Weasley are mysteriously absent - all within a few hours."

"That's - " she began but he cut her off.

"Please don't lie to me, Granger," he said calmly. "Not you." She was like some strange beacon of truth to him after he'd spent so much of his life in the shadow of lies, prejudice and manipulation. She'd rebuked him with his opinions on werewolves a few moments before. He couldn't bear the idea of her trying to deceive him. Something of his feelings must have shown on his face because she could only hold his gaze for a moment before looking down at her knees.

"You know, you three really do attract trouble," he told her lightly as he switched his concentration to the dinghy in order to distract himself from the stilted atmosphere he'd created.

"I can't really tell you anything," she said after a few minutes. "I want to," she added quickly when he turned to face her, "and it's not that I don't trust you, but it isn't just my truth to tell. There are others involved and it wouldn't be right for me to tell you if they don't know that I've done so."

He nodded. "I understand." He didn't need to know everything she got up to with Potter and Weasley. "You don't have to tell me anything."

He didn't realise he was staring at her until she said with amusement, "I didn't get bitten by Professor Lupin, Nott, so stop your gawping."

Theo looked away at once, his face warming. "Sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean to."

"It's fine," she replied. "I know I'm not really giving you any answers."

"Just tell me you weren't in any danger," Theo requested.

She smiled and looked to be on the verge of rolling her eyes as she shook her head a little. "I'm _fine_, Nott," she insisted.

He frowned. "You didn't answer my question," he pointed out and felt sure that had been her intention.

She huffed slightly and momentarily glanced away from him, all but confirming his suspicion. He blamed Potter and Weasley for endangering her - she'd come to no harm when she'd been away from them for a few months, but after resuming her friendship with those idiots she appeared to have encountered a werewolf and he dreaded to think what else.

Something of his thoughts seemed to show on his face (which was unsettling since he considered himself to be a master of hiding his inner feelings) because her face was earnest as she said, "We didn't go looking for trouble this time, I swear, not like with the Chamber or the Stone."

Theo made a quick adjustment to the sail. "You know, the rest of the school were never really told the truth about either of those incidents," he told her. "Dumbledore just threw points at you and your friends, and left us in the dark with nothing but a lot of rather wild rumours."

"Wild rumours?" she repeated with a touch of amusement.

Theo didn't share her humour. "You think people didn't notice that Professor Quirrell suddenly vanished at the end of First Year? Or that we were never told who was attacking students last year?"

Her light-hearted gaze faded and she frowned. "I never thought about it from an outsider's point of view," she murmured, which didn't exactly make him feel better. She noticed because she said, "I suppose Dumbledore was just trying to protect the students and prevent panic."

"We have a right to know the truth," Theo argued. "How do we know there won't be any more attacks linked to the Chamber, how do we know we're safe if we don't know what happened? I mean, we weren't even told why Black's been trying to get into the castle - though it's pretty obvious it has something to do with Potter."

Granger considered him and he distracted himself by focusing on sailing the boat.

"There won't be anymore attacks from the Chamber because the beast is dead," she told him after a couple of minutes of awkward silence. His gaze darted over to her and stayed there as she continued, "It was a basilisk. It was stabbed through the head with the sword of Godric Gryffindor. You-Know-Who had created a cursed object and left it to one of his followers. This item was given to a student last year and the curse within the object possessed them, leading to the attacks. The item has also been destroyed and the student made a complete recovery. If Professor Dumbledore had released that information, everyone would want to know who the student was and they may have been blamed for something that wasn't their fault."

Theo frowned as he absorbed what she'd told him. "Yes, I suppose you're right." He sent her a disbelieving look. "Potter really stabbed a giant snake with an ancient sword?"

"Who said anything about Harry?" she responded innocently. At the flat look he sent her in response, her facade crumbled and she laughed. "Well, I _was_ lying petrified in the Hospital Wing at the time but, yes, that's what happened."

Theo sobered up instantly. He hadn't exactly forgotten that she'd been the victim of one of the attacks but it suddenly dawned on him how insensitive he was being in bringing up what was likely to be a traumatic memory for her. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have - " he began but she waved his words away.

"It's fine," she told him earnestly.

Theo doubted that he would sound so calm if he'd been in her position but she was obviously a Gryffindor for a reason. "And the Stone?" he prodded tentatively. "What the hell was that all about?"

"The Philosopher's Stone," she said and Theo's eyes widened at the confirmation of one of those crazy rumours. He'd never heard of one before but soon everyone had found out about the extraordinary magical stone as the rumours flew around the castle.

"It was in the castle?" he asked and she nodded. "Why?"

"To protect it," she replied. "Someone wanted to steal it."

"Quirrell?"

She made a conflicted expression. "But not for himself," she explained.

"For who?" he asked with a frown.

Granger looked at him in disbelief for a moment then said, "For You-Know-Who."

"The Dark Lord is gone," Theo insisted, ignoring the chill that was crawling down his spine. "He was destroyed the night that Potter was attacked - everyone knows that."

Granger shook her head. "He was here, trying to get the Stone so it could give him a new body."

"A new body?" he asked in alarm. The idea of the Dark Lord walking the halls of Hogwarts was scary enough as it was without her unusual words. "How was he here without a body?"

She hesitated a moment, obviously uncomfortable with how much she was revealing, before replying quietly, "He was in Quirrell's body - that's why he always wore that turban. Harry said that You-Know-Who's face was on the back of his head."

Theo could only gape at her in horror. He wanted to exclaim that she had to be joking but he knew she wouldn't jest about something so serious. She had to be mistaken then. "The Dark Lord is _gone_," he repeated.

Her expression looked almost sorrowful. "You think I don't wish that was true?" she asked him. "I can't prove it to you and I know I didn't see him myself, but I don't doubt what Harry told me at all. His body might have been destroyed all those years ago but some part of him remains."

Theo shook his head - not at her words, but in rejection of the very idea of the Dark Lord returning. Obviously, he had been only a baby when You-Know-Who had been destroyed but he had heard so much about the Dark Lord growing up. His aunts always spoke so highly of him, especially Lavinia, and she would often lament about what might have been when she saw something in the Daily Prophet that wasn't to her liking. And as for his father's thoughts on the Dark Lord… Well, they had never had a proper conversation about it, but from his knowledge of his father's views on blood and other hints he'd picked up at home and from students like Draco, Theo had a strong suspicion that his father had been a firm supporter of the Dark Lord - perhaps even one of his chosen followers: a Death Eater. Theo's father had given him no indication to suggest that he thought You-Know-Who was alive and the elder wizard kept very much to himself these days, but if what Granger said was true, would his father welcome the news? Would he seek to support the man who had championed Pureblood supremacy and promoted the Dark Arts? Theo felt pretty certain he knew the answer and dread swept through his gut. He couldn't tell Granger what he feared about his father - there was a very real chance that she wouldn't want anything to do with him.

"I shouldn't have said anything," Granger said quietly, shaking her head.

"N-no," he stuttered slightly, trying to push his disquiet away. "I asked, didn't I? Besides, I- I think it's better to know the truth, however unsettling it might be..." He gave himself a little shake. "I can see what you mean about Dumbledore not wanting to cause any panic - if people found out that the Dark Lord was alive after all and had been right here in the castle right under the headmaster's nose - well, they'd be uproar wouldn't there?"

"If they believed it even happened," she told him. "Like I said, there's no proof and no one wants to believe that You-Know-Who isn't dead - that he'll be looking for a way to come back."

Theo considered this. "That's true," he agreed. "I didn't want to believe you - I still don't want to - but…" he paused and moved his gaze away from her to focus on sailing the boat. "But I know you wouldn't lie to me about this."

"I wouldn't," she agreed firmly. "I…" and then it was her turn to pause and he looked over at her. A sort of determination outlined the edges of her face and body. "I won't ever lie to you, Nott, I promise," she vowed solemnly, looking him square in the eyes.

Theo felt his face grow warm. "You don't have to do that - I know I asked you not to lie but you don't have to promise or anything."

"I want to," she told him easily. "It feels right."

Theo didn't know how to respond to such a gesture. A mere 'thank you' didn't seem an appropriate response but he said it anyway. They smiled shyly at each other for a few seconds before each looking away to focus on something else as the boat continued to glide through the smooth water of the lake.

"I won't tell anyone," Theo abruptly said a couple of minutes later and she turned back to him. "The things you told me about the Stone and the Chamber, I mean. I still think the other students might have a right to know but, well, it's not my place to tell them so if you're worried that I'm going to stir things up for Potter - "

"I wasn't worried about that," she interrupted, looking almost amused.

"You're putting a lot of trust into a Slytherin - I wouldn't normally recommend it," he warned her.

She shrugged, clearly unconcerned. "You're not just _any_ Slytherin though, are you? Your house doesn't define you." She apparently believed this statement to be true, but he wasn't quite sold on the idea and he knew that the majority of Hogwarts' students would agree with him. What was the point in Sorting the students into the house they 'belonged' to if it didn't hold the key to their identity? He was a Slytherin, he didn't doubt that, and yet, he supposed, there was more to his personality than that - his friendship with Granger was proof. And she wasn't exactly a typical Gryffindor either - he doubted he'd be able to stand her if she was.

"Besides," she said brightly, interrupting his musings. "I don't think anyone would believe you even if you did tell them the truth."

Theo briefly imagined telling Blaise and Draco about the Dark Lord's face being underneath Professor Quirrel's turban - the Slytherin boys would probably laugh (despite the chilling image) at something that sounded so preposterous. "No," he agreed, "they definitely wouldn't."

"And, well, I know we've never actually discussed it but I've always viewed that what you and I discuss is strictly between us: I wouldn't dream of telling anyone else what you confided in me about your family - and not just because it would cause a whole host of problems revealing that I'm friends with you," she added with a conspiratorial smile.

Theo lips were momentarily tugged upwards in agreement at the necessity of their secret friendship but his thoughts remained on what she had said before that. "I've thought that too," he replied, "about what we've said staying between us. I won't betray your trust, Granger."

She gave him a short nod and shuffled up the boat slightly so that she could hold out a hand. "Likewise."

After checking that all was still well with the dinghy, he grasped her hand and gave it a firm shake.

After that, they didn't speak about the Dark Lord, Professor Lupin or Buckbeak again. Theo was still unsettled by what she had revealed but he refused to let it ruin their trip - his last chance to be his true self before he would be returning to his family in Cornwall for the first time since his change in beliefs. He wasn't looking forward to it - apart from seeing Carenza, of course. He knew that most of the time he would be left to his own devices, but the legacy of Hanternoss Hall and his childhood there seemed tainted now. If he didn't belong in his own home then where did he fit in? He had no answer for that and that's why he was determined to be free while he could.

After they paid their respects to the Giant Squid by feeding it the usual assortment of treats, Theo turned to Granger, the challenge clear in his expression. She noticed and sighed noisily.

"All right," she said but he suspected that her reluctance wasn't entirely genuine. He sensed that if she really didn't want to go in the water then she wouldn't.

Theo double-checked that the boat was secure, discreetly turning away from her so that she could prepare herself for the swim. He shrugged off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, before removing his socks and shoes. He welcomed the gentle lick of warming sunlight against his bare skin but still cast a warming charm on his clothes before tucking his wand into his holster.

"See you in there," he half-called over his shoulder and then dived over the side. He savoured the familiar rush that swept through him at being reunited with the water once more and propelled himself deeper under the lake to look for any sign of danger. On seeing that all was safe, he kicked upwards and took in a big lungful of air as his head broke through the surface.

There was a slight splash behind him and he turned back towards the boat just as Granger's head resurfaced.

"Nott!" she screeched, her eyes blazing and her hair a tangled mess about her face. "It's _freezing_ in here!"

He tried not to laugh and took a couple of strokes towards her. "You'll warm up in a minute, I swear. You just need to get your body moving." She made a contemptuous noise at that suggestion but started to swim around anyway.

"Ugh, I can't believe you swim in here in the middle of winter," she muttered as she started to jerkily swim away from the boat with him.

"I told you," he said, his tone as easy as his strokes.

"Yes, yes, there's water in your blood," she interrupted impatiently. "Well, we can say for sure that it's definitely not in mine."

Theo tried not to smirk at her uncharacteristic grumpiness because he knew she wouldn't appreciate it, and instead kept his lips below the level of the water.

After a couple of minutes he noticed that her complaints had stopped and he saw that she was peering down into the water.

"We can dive down if you want a closer look," he suggested. "There's not going to be much to see in terms of creatures so soon after the squid has passed through but, as I've said before, that's probably for the best - the grindylows can be little devils if they decide you're there for the taking."

"OK," Granger agreed. "But I probably can't hold my breath as long as you."

"That's fine," he told her. "Ready?"

She nodded and then they dove under the water. The world below the lake surface was clearer than usual thanks to the bright sunlight, and he watched Granger's face as she turned her head round eagerly to take in as much as possible - her hair blossoming around her face like the petals on a flower. She surfaced a couple of times and then returned to look further and further across the bottom of the lake, but their visibility only stretched for a hundred yards or so in each direction.

They rose to get some air together and he was amused that her hair now lay flat and slick against her neck and cheeks.

"What?" she asked, catching his expression as they trod water.

"Your hair looks so different when it's wet," he said simply. "Not as wild."

"Oh." She brushed some of the sopping locks away from her eyes and Theo sensed that he'd made her self-conscious.

"I don't mean it looks bad - just different, because you can see the rest of your face more clearly now," he told her quickly. Unfortunately, he sensed that he was making things worse and his face began to flush, but he couldn't stop his mouth from continuing to run away from him. "Not that there's anything wrong with your normal hair - the wildness suits you - like when you have to tie it up for ballet class but a few unruly strands always rebel and escape: it reminds me of you coming into the magical world and trying to fit in, but not compromising on what you believe or what you want to do…" He trailed off awkwardly and had to fight the overwhelming urge to hide his face under the water. Granger's cheeks had turned pink too but Theo didn't know if it was because she was embarrassed or flattered by his words - he hoped it was the latter: he was embarrassed enough for the both of them.

"You know, I think that's the first time anyone's complimented my hair," she told him with a small laugh. "Thanks."

Theo's desire to drown himself still persisted, but he toughed it out and suggested a race back to the boat instead. He won easily without going anywhere near his top speed, and even had time to flip onto his back and take the last few strokes at a leisurely pace as he watched her try to keep up. He received a face full of water for his cockiness though, because she splashed him when she got close enough with a muttered, "Show off." Far from taking this lying down, Theo initiated a full-on war that lasted for several minutes, and a truce was only called when Theo caught sight of one of the merpeople watching them from the depths when he took evasive action to avoid one of Granger's attacks.

"Merpeople?" she gasped, her soaked hair releasing droplets of water down her face. "Really?" She peered down into the water and looked ready to dive but he reached out for her arm before she could. She looked at him quizzically.

"Best not," he advised, gently tugging her back towards the direction of the boat. "The lake is their home, after all. We don't want to do anything to antagonise them."

"Oh," she looked troubled. "Have we offended them?"

"I think maybe we were just making too much noise," he replied. "They probably sent someone to see what the fuss was about. If they were really mad, we wouldn't be in any doubt from what I've heard." He hauled himself easily back onto the dinghy and then bent over to help Granger in too. She slipped slightly as her wet feet met the floor of the boat but he held her firmly, realising only when her hand touched his bare chest to steady herself how closely they were standing together. "Here," he said, reaching around her to grab her bathing towel.

"Thanks," she said gratefully, her head bent away from him as she wrapped it around herself.

They spent the next couple of minutes in an awkward silence as they dried themselves off and changed into warm clothes, until Granger asked him what he knew about the merpeople, and their ease with each other soon returned. He told her everything he knew about the lake's different inhabitants as they resumed their journey to the island.

The sheltered clearing was quite warm with the sun beaming down on them and they eagerly shared a flask of pumpkin juice to quench their thirst.

Granger held her cup up and toasted, "To surviving our Third Year at Hogwarts!"

Theo obligingly tapped his drink against hers. "And the new friends we've made along the way," he added and she grinned at him before taking a sip of the refreshing juice.

"Yes, to that most of all," she agreed earnestly. "I honestly don't know how I would've gotten through the year without you and Tam. Thank you, Theo."

She didn't use his first name very often and it always sounded so strange on her tongue when she did, but he liked it. "You're welcome. And I should thank you too - for opening my eyes to the truth."

She shook her head. "I don't think I had very much to do with it - that was probably Tam. Besides, you had to be willing to see; plenty of others in your shoes would've ignored it."

"But you didn't turn me away," he pointed out. "You forgave me, and I don't think I would've done the same if the situation had been reversed."

"Oh, I don't know about that," she denied, her brown eyes peering intently into his soul. "I think there's far more compassion inside of you than you realise."

He stared at her for a few moments, hardly breathing, then glanced down at his juice and took another swig. "Thanks," he muttered, his thoughts and feelings a little scrambled by her words. It often unsettled him that she held him in such high regard, but he was recently trying to coach himself into believing her words because, after all, she had become the one person who knew him better than anyone these last few months. And hadn't he done so many things this year that he never would've dreamed himself doing back in September - and all because of her...

He suddenly became aware of a new worry creeping over him, that one day he would let her down; that he wouldn't live up to the person she saw inside of him. He quickly pushed the thought out of his mind, determined as he was to enjoy their time together: the last chance he had to be himself before an entire summer of pretending to be someone that he wasn't anymore.

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A/N Kinda fluffy again but mostly a key step forwards in their relationship. I'm really interested on your take on what Hermione revealed to him about her exploits with Harry and Ron. When I wrote this chapter I asked my sister's opinion on that section. She thought Hermione was telling him too much/it's not her place to share, but my sister is not a reader of this story so she didn't understand the level of friendship that the two of them have developed. Do you think Hermione went too far or was it about right? Let me know!

I hope you're all keeping safe.

Love,

Red

PS Forgot to mention last time that the curse on Hermione's shoes last chapter was inspired by something I heard that dancers put bits of glass in other rival ballerinas' shoes! Could just be an urban legend but I don't know for sure! Ouch! There's a hierarchy in most professional dance companies so it's hardly surprising that it brings out jealousy and competitiveness, but I think we can all agree that's going way too far!


	9. Fourth Year - Part One

A/N So sorry for the long wait, guys! Thanks for all your support over the last few months.

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Fourth Year - Part One

Hermione couldn't fight back the grin that spread over her face as she stepped into the ballet classroom for the first time in months.

She honestly hadn't expected to miss her dance classes so much over summer. Her third year had been so intense and exhausting, and ballet had played a significant part in that, so she'd been looking forward to having a relaxed summer break. That mindset had lasted all of a week until her mother had mentioned that a local dance school was holding a two week summer intensive programme in July. The following morning, Hermione had signed up and rented various ballet VHS tapes from her local store to practise with so that she wouldn't embarrass herself in front of the other dancers.

She needn't have worried though: she may have only been taking ballet for nine months (and at a significantly older age than most serious dancers) but her tutelage from the Vittozzis had left her on an equal footing with her peers. It had been very interesting to receive guidance from new teachers and Hermione took on board everything she was told. Her dance teachers appeared to be impressed because they seemed disappointed when she told them she couldn't sign up to their school for the rest of the year.

The performance their school gave at the end of the fortnight was certainly satisfying: she wasn't shunned by any of her classmates, which made a nice change, and her mum and dad were able to watch - something they'd almost certainly never get to do at Hogwarts. She was also involved a lot more in her summer holiday show than she was at the Hogwarts performance they'd completed just before the academic exams, but that was to be expected - Tam had told her that Third Years only took part in the large group numbers because it was more of an opportunity for the older students to be showcased. Even so, she'd still been very nervous before stepping onto the conjured stage in the Great Hall to perform before her friends and the rest of the school for the first time. She knew that it was unlikely they would see much of her when the stage was so crowded with other dancers but the butterflies in her stomach had persisted. As she'd waited in the wings, she was able to watch Tam take centre stage and she looked on in awe as he leapt effortlessly through the air, pirouetted at dizzying speeds and commanded the spotlight with complete confidence, making her own fears fade away.

Her actual time on stage had been something of a blur, but she distinctly remembered catching Nott's eye during the opening polonaise and flashing him a grin that he'd returned in his own modest way. Ron and Harry were each able to churn out a few clumsy compliments after the show and Hermione tried not to laugh as they attempted to commend her on her dancing using vocabulary they were not particularly familiar with. Fred and George were a little more teasing with their comments about buns and sequins, but just as they were getting on her nerves they complimented her on sticking it to pureblood tradition and encouraged her to keep on smashing down their ridiculous barriers.

She had little time to appreciate the twins' comments because the Vittozzis were holding an afterparty for the ballet students and the specially invited friends and guests. Given that there were just a couple of days left before the start of her academic exams, Hermione was reluctant to take any more time away from revision but she had promised Neville weeks earlier that she'd go. Despite Fred and George's earlier words, she was still a little intimidated entering a room containing so many people who were openly prejudiced against her. There were a handful of Gryffindors as well as Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students, but they were severely outnumbered by those from Slytherin. Hermione could sense the stares and whispers as she and Neville walked through the crowd to get themselves a glass of pumpkin juice, but she held her head high and ignored them. She and Neville were quite content to talk to their friends from the third-year class because only fourth year students and up were allowed to invite family members and therefore they didn't have many other people to talk to. They spent a few minutes analysing that day's performance and then compared revision progress and exam expectations.

Later, Hermione found herself being introduced to Tam's family when he'd caught her elbow as she'd walked by. She'd felt her cheeks warming as the unfairly attractive Davies clan complimented her on her academic achievements and fortitude in sticking with ballet. They were not the relatives that she expected a Slytherin to have, but it turned out that Tam was something of the odd one out in that respect as the rest of his family were all Ravenclaws.

It was then that Tam revealed to her that he'd been accepted as an apprentice with the prestigious Ballet du Monde - the most revered magical ballet company in the wizarding world and the very same one where the Vittozzis had made their careers. Hermione was absolutely thrilled for him and the opportunities that would give him for the future, but she knew that she would miss Tam's tutelage and support. Perhaps he'd sensed that because his parting words to her were, "No matter what, stay strong and keep showing them what you can do."

Hermione repeated Tam's words to herself as the Slytherins in her ballet class all gave her looks of revulsion. Her first class of the new school year was only for fourth year girls and focused mainly on pointe work. This wasn't a completely new experience though because a week after their ballet exam had been completed last year, the students who wanted to continue the art had moved onto the next grade. Hermione had discovered that she would now be formally examined in ballet much more frequently than in her other subjects: her progress in general ballet, pointe work and partner dancing would next be assessed in December.

She was also having to dance with a new partner. While Neville had scraped through his ballet exam with a passing grade, he had not signed up to continue the classes beyond the initial level which, after all, had always been his intention. Hermione had danced with Neville in their performance to the school but, in class, she had been paired with Terry Boot. The Ravenclaw was a much more competent dancer than Neville and she got on well with him, but she secretly wished she could dance with Nott. It was a futile hope and she knew it; the fallout from the Slytherins and even her friends in Gryffindor would likely create an unpleasant situation that could ruin their unique friendship and her love of dance - and they were two things she was very keen to hold on to. Besides, Nott probably didn't want to dance with her in front of others anyway.

She was looking forward to seeing him though. Well, she'd _seen_ him a few times already, even though it was the first day back: she'd glimpsed him in the Great Hall a couple of times and he'd been in her Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy classes that day, but when they'd been surrounded by their classmates they weren't able to do much more than catch each other's eyes to share an incredulous look about the dangerous new creatures Hagrid had introduced to them.

On multiple occasions over the summer, Hermione had considered sending him a letter via owl because she could tell that he hadn't been looking forward to spending time with his relatives, and she wanted him to know that he could turn to her. The only reason she hadn't written to him was because of her unfamiliarity with his home life - what if his father or one of his aunts discovered her letter? From what Nott had told her, she knew that his family would be outraged and disgusted at him befriending a muggleborn.

She wished he was here in her first ballet class of the year, because she felt like she could take strength from his silent presence and she felt a tiny bit vulnerable in the female class. It probably wasn't helped by the fact that signora Vittozzi always led the pointe lessons. While Hermione was fairly confident in stating that signor Vittozzi was in her corner, she still didn't know where she stood with his wife. When Hermione's shoes had been cursed, the signora had shown compassion and even displayed some pride during her rescheduled test, but if the Gryffindor had expected this softening to continue then she was sorely mistaken. Signora merely looked on Hermione with something akin to exasperation rather than the thinly-veiled disgust and disapproval she'd had to endure before. What was more, signora Vittozzi did nothing to discourage the Slytherin girls from insulting Hermione at least half a dozen times each lesson - the ballet mistress just pretended she was unable to see or hear it. Hermione stayed close to the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff girls, but the whispers and sneers still reached her ears however much she tried to tune them out. The situation had been particularly nasty last term because Pansy Parkinson and the other Slytherin girls had been horrified to discover that not only had Hermione still been able to take her exam, but she also achieved a very good grade - and her score (whilst not nearly as high as Nott's outstanding score) was higher than most of theirs. Hermione hoped that the animosity had cooled over the summer but she wasn't getting her hopes up.

Ignoring the hostile stares of the Slytherins, Hermione maintained her smile and joined Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones by the window to stow away her belongings and put on her normal ballet shoes to warm up in. The girls chatted about their respective summers - the two Hufflepuff girls surprised to hear that Hermione had completed an extra dance course during the break.

"But, isn't muggle ballet really different?" Hannah asked. "I'm sure I heard that their style is far less expressive and pretty basic in technique."

Hermione paused for a moment. There was no contempt behind Hannah's words: she just stated that view as fact, which was somehow more shocking in its ignorance than the open disgust of the Slytherins who hated anything muggle-related on principle. But should Hermione really be surprised that someone like Hannah wouldn't know anything about muggle ballet? It wasn't as though the Hufflepuff girl would have had the chance to watch a performance if she kept away from muggle society as much as your typical witch or wizard. And that's where the historical beliefs of blood prejudices would show themselves even amongst those that claimed and believed that they were tolerant: being open to someone else's culture was all well and good, but educating yourself was the best way to avoid making ignorant statements like Hannah's.

"There really isn't that much difference between muggle and magical ballet in terms of technique," Hermione told her, trying to keep any trace of her frustration out of her voice. "Muggles can't produce the effects during performances that we can but that means the dancers themselves actually have to be _more_ expressive."

Hannah's expression was politely surprised.

"I'd like to see a muggle ballet production," Susan said musingly.

"You should," Hermione encouraged. "I think you'd be pleasantly surprised at what you'd see. Muggles have pushed the boundaries of what ballet can be far more than the magical community have."

The Hufflepuff girls looked intrigued but signora Vittozzi walked into the studio and quickly called the girls to ready themselves for the start of the class. Hermione was eager to show the signora that her form hadn't diminished over the summer break. She'd picked up a few daily exercises to improve her flexibility from the muggle dancers on her course and Hermione had seen it as a personal challenge that summer to get her legs as close to vertical as possible. For some reason, her right leg had progressed much further than her left, but both had moved on significantly since the end of third year. And her efforts were well worth it when Signora stopped dead to stare at her during their rond de jambe exercise when Hermione's foot reached a height higher than her head when she was required to perform a rond de jambe jeté - an action that would look something like a sideways kick to those unfamiliar to ballet . Aware that she had Signora's attention, Hermione concentrated with utmost care through the rest of the exercise to show her dance mistress that it wasn't a fluke; that she wasn't just throwing her leg up in an ungainly fashion but she had control over what she was doing.

Hermione couldn't resist looking over at the signora again as the twinkling notes of the music faded away at the end of the exercise. Signora Vittozzi's mouth tightened a little but then she held her right arm up in fifth position as she came to stand in front of Hermione. "Don't forget about your arms - if you're going to throw your leg up that high then you need to ensure that your whole body is up to standard."

Hermione nodded and repeated the move, making sure her fingers were raised slightly in the way Signora liked and her arm was gently curved. The ballet mistress watched closely again, then made an indeterminable noise in her throat before walking away. Hermione tried not to smile too openly at what was almost certainly the best interaction she'd had with signora Vittozzi. Things were already off to a great start for Fourth Year.

* * *

Theo was nervous about seeing her.

He'd spent most of his summer looking forward to the moment when he could breathe a little easier; when he could be himself with the person who knew him best. But, for some reason, from the moment he'd caught a glimpse of her vivacious hair on the platform at King's Cross, he'd felt a slight apprehension at being reunited with Granger again. His time at home hadn't exactly been miserable but it had definitely been a little stifling, and he'd distracted himself from the overwhelming feeling in a few different ways: having Carenza by his side as much as possible, sailing on the sea, practising his ballet and thinking about his secret friend. He'd come to think of Granger as a sort of lifeline to his true self but self-doubt began to creep into his mind, trying to persuade him that his friendship with her had run its course; that she would have no interest in spending time with him once the new school year had started. Why would she? After all, she had plenty of friends in her own house, she had a decent partner in ballet class now that Longbottom had quit and nor was Tam there to tutor them. And, to top it all, there were greater demands on her time now that she had given back the time turner.

She'd informed him of her decision to hand back the device during their last trip on the lake, claiming that she wanted her life to go back to normal. And this was quickly followed by an assurance that they'd still go out on the lake and study together. At the time, Theo had believed her, but endless weeks at home had forced him to come to the conclusion that this wasn't possible. Granger had been busy enough completing all her schoolwork and ballet classes _with_ the time turner and he couldn't see how she was going to have time for him without it.

They were only able to share the odd glance here or there during their first few days of lessons and Theo had seen her studying in the library on a couple of occasions, but he hadn't found the courage to go and talk to her incase his fears were realised and she no longer had any wish to be his friend. On Friday morning the matter was taken out of his hands because an owl delivered a note to him during breakfast asking him to meet at the table at the back of the History of Magic section at six o'clock that evening. It wasn't signed by anyone but he knew who it was from. He looked over to the Gryffindor table where Granger was sat with her idiotic friends. After a few moments, she sensed his gaze and he gave her a small nod as their eyes met. She smiled widely and his worries momentarily dissipated in the face of her pleasure and he felt foolish for doubting the strength of their unusual bond. However, as the day progressed, his uncertainty returned and he approached the library that evening with a racing heart.

It wasn't very busy between the shelves but that was unsurprising given that it was a Friday evening on the first week back. Granger's chosen table was at the rear of the library and they were highly unlikely to be discovered there together, which was precisely why they often met there.

He saw her before she saw him and he was unsurprised to see her making notes from a large book onto a piece of parchment. This very typical view helped to calm him a little, and he was even more reassured when she looked up and greeted him with another enthusiastic smile.

"Hi," she said warmly, dropping her quill down a little clumsily and causing a few spots of ink to splatter onto her parchment in her eagerness to talk to him. "It's so good to see you. How was your summer? I really wanted to write to you but I didn't think it would be safe with your family."

Theo pulled out the other chair to her table and took a seat, feeling relieved once more. "I would've liked to hear from you but that was probably for the best," he replied and she nodded. "My summer was quiet, really. I went out in the boat most days and practised my ballet a lot. I just kept to myself, which was fine. My father and aunts didn't seem to notice anything different."

"Good," she said with a sigh and another smile. "And Carenza - was she excited to see you?"

Theo chuckled at the memory of Carenza leaping up into his arms and licking his face all over when he got home from the Hogwarts Express at the start of summer. "You could say that," he told her and she grinned. "She tried to smuggle herself into my trunk more than once when I packed last week."

Granger held a hand to her heart and her face showed how adorable she thought that was. "How sweet!"

Theo shook his head with a smile. "Maybe, but you don't want a crup running around Hogwarts, believe me - she'd be an absolute nuisance."

"I'll take your word for it."

"And what about you - how was your summer?" he asked. She told him about her muggle dance course, which he found very interesting, and then she spent a few minutes attempting to explain how muggles were able to watch moving images on a box called a 'TV'.

"So, you can watch past performances of ballets on this box whenever you want?" Theo asked, trying to get his head around the concept.

"Yes," she told him. She went on to describe how other things could be seen on the box, too, like sports, factual programmes, news, dramas and music, and he was very surprised that muggles knew how to show you moving images of something that was happening on the other side of the world at that very moment. He hoped he'd get to see a TV one day.

"But I spent the last week of the holidays at Ron's house because his father got tickets to the final of the Quidditch World Cup," she told him. Theo had nothing positive to say about Ron Weasley but he perked up at the mention of the final.

"I was there too - my dad got tickets," he said excitedly. They spent a couple of minutes talking about the match. Theo was very jealous to hear that she had seen the players up close and personal in the top box, but he refrained from going through the actual match with her when she complained that Potter and Weasley had talked of it so often ever since.

"I hope you weren't caught up in that awful rampage afterwards," she said solemnly and she shuddered. "What they were doing to that muggle family was just disgusting."

Ice shot through Theo's veins. "Er, no," he said a little hoarsely and cleared his throat. "No, my father and I went home about an hour after the match ended. I didn't know anything about the attack until we saw it in the paper the next day," he told her honestly. However, what Theo didn't mention was that he couldn't be sure that his father hadn't returned to the campsite once Theo had gone to bed. He had no glaring evidence to support his father's involvement in the incident but he just had a gut feeling that he couldn't shake off. His Aunt Lavinia had spent the following days praising the actions of the attackers and lamenting, once again, that the country had gone to the dogs after the fall of the Dark Lord.

"The Dark Lord is _gone_," Theo's father had barked sharply at his sister during dinner one evening.

Lavinia had taken to keeping the copy of the Daily Prophet by her side and she enthusiastically brandished the front page image of the Dark Mark at her brother. "People are using his sign, Emory. There are those that still believe after all this time!"

"_Enough_!" his father insisted, refusing to look at the newspaper and Aunt Lavinia moodily returned her attention to her soup.

He had been quite surprised by his father's reluctance to discuss the Dark Lord and his supporters given Theo's belief that he'd been one of the Dark Lord's followers. Surely he'd be in favour of the attack at the World Cup even if he hadn't taken any part in it?

The whole incident had worried Theo but he had no wish to share those fears with Granger - she'd never speak to him again if she found out that his father might have been a Death Eater.

To distract himself from that alarming thought, he asked her whether she was going to audition for the welcoming dance performances for the arrivals of the delegates from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang in October. During their first combined lesson of the year, all of the Fourth Year ballet students had been shocked and surprised to hear that there would be extra performances over the coming months to mark the special competition. However, their enthusiasm was tempered by the further explanation that any students that wished to take part would have to audition in front of the Vittozzis if they wanted to be selected.

Granger pulled a conflicted face at the prospect. "I don't know," she said slowly, shaking her head. "I'd really like to, but I'm sure that they're going to pick all of the older students, which I get because they're far more advanced than me - especially at pointe work. Besides, I know Signora won't be looking to do me any favours by giving me a chance. You should definitely go for it though - I'm sure you'll be chosen."

Theo shrugged. "I'll definitely audition but I'm not so sure about my chances as you are - there are lots of really good older students and we don't know how many dancers they want to include."

"That's true," she agreed.

"But you have to audition - you know you'll regret it if you don't give yourself a chance," he pointed out. "And Signor has got your back, hasn't he? I'm sure I heard him saying in class yesterday that you've improved over the summer and I already told you that I could tell you've been working on your flexibility."

She blushed and smiled modestly at hearing the compliments, and Theo felt a rush of pleasure at making her smile.

"Yes, all right, I'll probably audition," she admitted and then her eyes became bright as a thought popped into her head. "Do you want to practise together when they've taught us the audition steps? I know we won't have Tam there to tell us if we're doing it right but two heads are better than one, right?"

"Yeah, that sounds like a great idea," he said, "but we might find it harder to get access to one of the rehearsal rooms without Tam's early access to the sign-up sheet."

She sighed. "True. I wonder how he's getting on. It must be so exciting for him to be surrounded by dance all the time."

"We can write to him if you want," Theo suggested and her eyes lit up again.

"Yes, but," she paused, "maybe we'd better give it a week or two - we don't need to let him think that we miss him after just a few days back at school!"

Theo laughed. "Yeah, good point. Let's wait until the auditions are done and then we'll hopefully have some good news to share with him."

"All right," she agreed. "But I think we should go out on the lake soon before the weather gets cold."

He was taken a little by surprise at that announcement. "You still want to go sailing?"

Granger frowned. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, you don't have it anymore," he explained with a vague gesture at her neck. "You won't be able to redo your Sunday so I didn't think you'd have time."

"I'll make time," she told him confidently.

"But Potter and Weasley -"

"Nott, those days on the lake saved me last year," she said in a calm but heartfelt tone and Theo found himself caught in her gaze. "_You_ saved me. I'll never forget it and I'll always be grateful. I know this year is going to be almost as hectic as last year was, but I still think that it's important that I remember to take time away from my studies every now and then. I really enjoy spending time with you so, if you're willing to accompany me, I'd really like to continue with our little voyages."

After a few seconds, Theo realised that he was just staring at her and he quickly nodded his head. "Yeah, er, yes, I'd like that." Her face had been a little concerned at his silence but at his words she broke into a brilliant smile and his spirits soared. He couldn't believe that he'd been so worried about seeing her again.

"But I'm not getting into that water again without some sort of warming charm on my body," she told him, still smiling.

He laughed. "All right, I'll see what I can come up with."

"Good," she nodded but then her face became thoughtful. "Actually, I have a question about our boat trips."

"What's that?" he enquired.

"The food we take with us - for our lunch and the giant squid - where does it come from?" she asked.

Theo's eyebrows rose in surprise at the unexpected question. "From the kitchens, where else?"

"The house elves prepare it for us?"

"Well, yeah, I presume so. It's not like I go in and ask them, I just leave them an order the day before and it's delivered to my room overnight."

For some reason, she didn't look very happy with this answer.

"But don't you think it's _wrong_?" she asked him in a tone of voice that showed that _she_ certainly did.

"I don't understand what you mean," Theo said, feeling quite confused.

"The enslavement of house elves, of course!" she told him passionately. "The poor creatures have been exploited by witches and wizards for centuries. They get no wages, next to nothing in terms of rights and they're kept out of sight like a dirty little secret. There's no mention of them in Hogwarts: A History. I only found out that there are house elves working here the other day - I've been here for three years and haven't seen a single one!"

"Well, that's the mark of a good elf, isn't it? You're not supposed to know they're there," Theo pointed out. Clearly, this was not the right thing to say but he didn't really understand what was happening.

Granger fixed him with a pointed look. "Your home - there's a house elf there, isn't there?"

"Of course," he replied. "We have two: Wenna and Corm. They've lived in Hanternoss Hall longer than I have."

"But why didn't you mention them when you were telling me about your family?" she asked.

"Because they're not my family - they're my house elves," he explained.

Judging by the disappointed look on Granger's face, that was an even worse thing to say.

"But- but they take care of you, don't they?" she asked.

"Yeah, because that's their job."

"Do you pay them? Give them benefits like holidays and sick leave?"

Theo almost laughed but managed to stop himself because he strongly suspected that it would upset her. "Of course not."

"That's not a job - that's enslavement," she told him boldly.

Theo shook his head. "You've got it all wrong. They're not slaves - they enjoy serving others."

"That's because of centuries of brainwashing and conditioning," she argued. "Just because they think they're happy that doesn't make them free."

Theo stared at her. "Are we seriously having a disagreement about house elves?"

"Why shouldn't we?" she countered. "Nobody else seems to be doing anything to help them."

"And what exactly are you doing?" he said.

"I'm glad you asked," she replied pointedly. From the library table she picked up and flourished a piece of parchment at him. "I've founded an organisation."

Theo took the parchment and let his eyes scan over the title - the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare - and the organisation's short and long-term aims. He could feel Granger's eyes on him, waiting for his reaction, and he lowered the parchment with a sigh.

"Well?" she asked. "Our aims are fair, don't you think? We must stop the mistreatment and abuse of elves, Theo." She popped open a small tin she had in her lap and showed him a collection of badges labelled S.P.E.W. "I was thinking that you could become a member and help with the campaign, especially if you have house elf contacts. We can keep your membership anonymous if you wish, but you can have a badge for two sickles and that will fund our leaflet campaign."

She held out a badge towards him but he held up his hand in frustration. "Stop. You asked me what I thought but you didn't actually give me a chance to respond. You can't just force somebody to agree with you, Granger. I will admit that house elves are creatures that I've barely given a second thought to. I know I don't have the best record when it comes to prejudices and attitudes, but I'm not going to blindly support you when I don't think you're right."

"But - " she began urgently.

"I haven't finished," he told her calmly. "I _don't_ think you're right but that doesn't mean my mind is made up. I want to come to an informed decision but that's going to take time and more than just your say so."

She still looked rather put-out but his willingness to keep an open mind on the matter had pacified her for now. She closed her fingers around the proffered badge and then silently returned it to the tin where it clinked slightly as it rejoined the others.

"Fine," she said in a clipped tone that matched the sharpness of the lid being re-sealed on the tin. "But I expect you to keep to your word and we'll carry on the debate when you're more informed." She swapped the tin for a different item on her desk: a rather hefty book. She forced the tome into his hands before he could refuse it. "That'll be a good starting point for getting you caught up on how the abuse of house elves became institutionalised in magical society."

She gave him that familiar, challenging look of stubbornness that had marked their early encounters last year, and he could tell that she was daring him to show whether he meant what he'd said. Maybe she expected him to refuse the extra work, most other people their age certainly would have. Instead, Theo tucked the book under his arm. "Thank you," he said smoothly.

"You're very welcome," she said, smiling at him sweetly.

"But if you want anyone to take your cause seriously, you have to change the acronym," he told her, as he got to his feet. "Nobody's going to wear a badge proclaiming support for vomit, Granger."

He could feel her scowling at his back as he walked away.

* * *

A/N I would say that I purposefully kept this update back until the start of the academic year to match with what's going on in the chapter but that would have been very cruel to intentionally make you wait that long! I just really wasn't in a fic-writing mood for so long - something that's very unusual for me. Hopefully, that phase is over with now.

Anyway, I know that house elves aren't everyone's favourite story line but it's fun to play around with how Theo would see the matter and if that has any impact on Hermione's crusade.

Let me know what you think of the chapter - you guys said lots of lovely, reassuring things last time. Thank you!

Love,

Red


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